Lives Go On
by Lady-Tinuviel
Summary: Eowyn and Faramir, newly married, share stories of their pasts as their future unfolds. PG- 13 for angst and a little EowynFaramir pairing. Chapter thirteen up now!
1. Jumping

Disclaimer- Sadly, I do not own Faramir. I am just borrowing him for my own odd uses. Please don't sue!  
  
Summary- Eowyn and Faramir, newly married, share stories of their pasts as their future unfolds. PG- 13 for angst and a little Eowyn/Faramir pairing.  
  
Chapter One- Jumping  
  
Giddy was one word never used to describe the White Lady of Rohan. Withdrawn, maybe, noble, of course, strong, undeniably, proud, without a doubt- yes, all these, but never giddy. To see Eowyn smile was oftentimes a miracle in itself.  
  
I was hoping for a small grin, maybe a satisfied nod, as I opened the door to the Steward's Quarters in Minas Tirith. I certainly was not prepared for a squeal. Yes, Eowyn squealed. She rushed into the cloak room with a broad smile on her face. In my opinion, the area was not much at all, but then again, I was more accustomed to these sorts of things. She had often felt overwhelmed by the sheer size of things in Gondor, which surpassed her homeland's, but I noticed now that she liked it a little, especially when it was her own apartments.  
  
She continued into the sitting room in a hurry, whirling about, trying to take in every aspect of the room at once. I smiled to see her drift towards the bookshelves on which I had placed the books I most dearly loved. It had been a hard decision, to pick only fifty. Why, if Boromir had to pick, he...  
  
I stopped myself. There would be no reminiscing over any of my woes today, nor tomorrow, nor, as I hoped, for as long as I lived. That was hopeless, I knew, to forget about my life before Eowyn for all of eternity, but I simply could not ruin the mood for my own wedding. There would be other days to think of my brother and father, days when it would not hurt so much or take away from my new life.  
  
"So many books," she said, running her supple fingers over their spines. I puzzled over her use of the word "many", before it occurred to me. The people of Rohan had no written language of their own, so even a few books in one place must have seemed extraordinary to her.  
  
Eowyn plucked a book from its place and looked through it. Her face fell a little as she realized that she could not read it. I imagined that she did not like to learn that there was something she could not do. It hurt her fierce pride more than anything to be surrounded by so much that reinforced her shortcomings.  
  
I could not bear to see her unhappy, especially when the cause of it were things I held close. I went over to her and placed my hand over hers on the yellowing pages. It was one of my favorites, dealing with Numenor, and its eventual destruction. Somehow, it seemed less fascinating to me than it had before, maybe because of the beautiful woman standing at my side. "I could help you read this, my lady, if it would please you. For a woman of your wit, I doubt it would take you long to learn."  
  
She looked up at me and smiled, a soft grin I found enticing and comforting. Often, when my thoughts strayed to more unpleasant things, she would notice, and give that same grin. I wondered why she used it now. Perhaps she had noticed how I had lingered on upsetting memories for too long. She was wise, very wise, and I found myself almost vulnerable in front of her, she knew my mind so well.  
  
With a sigh, she looked at the book again. "You know how to soothe my pride, my lord. A good trait to have," she said, weighing the heavy volume in her hands before giving it to me. Then she was off again, hurrying towards another door.  
  
"It's locked," she exclaimed, tugging at the knob. "Faramir, why am I locked out of my own home? What is in here?" Annoyance had crept into her voice as pushed hopelessly at the large door.  
  
Placing the book of Numenor on a table, I looked over at her. "That's Father's study," I said absentmindedly. Almost, I felt scared for being in his rooms. Would he not punish me?  
  
"Is it not your study now?" she asked, seeming a little confused. Of course, I remembered, biting my lip, everyone knew that Father was... dead... and I was the Steward now.  
  
"Yes, that's what I meant. It's just hard for me to think of it that way," I said, a heat rising in my face. Now Eowyn would think me an idiot who could not even remember that he was the last living member of his family. I always seemed to mess up in the smallest ways like that.  
  
To my surprise, she nodded. "I still think it odd whenever anyone refers to Eomer as king. I keep thinking that Theoden would find it amusing, and then I remember..." she broke off and sighed.  
  
"I'm sorry, my lady. I did not mean to stir up bitter memories for you," I said, feeling as stupid and boorish as I could be. Now, look what I had done, turned her thoughts back to those of death and despair.  
  
"Do not be sorry, my lord, it just never occurred to me how you would think of these apartments. Does it not bother you to be here?" she asked, crossing to me and laying one soft hand on my arm.  
  
"No, not much, only to be in the study. All of Father's records are in there, and until I can clear them out, it shall haunt me a little." I smiled at her, trying not to let myself be drowned in the past. "Come, you have not even seen the bedroom."  
  
I did not have to speak twice. Eowyn was off in a flash, hardly able to contain her excitement as she realized that she had not even explored her own sleeping chamber. I followed her, and surveyed the room, almost unable to contain my excitement. I thought I had redecorated it quite well. The bed was brand new, lavishly carved by the best woodworker in town. It was covered in deep blue quilts and rich red pillows, all of which I had picked out myself. The window, which faced east to Ithilien, offered a lovely view of the Pelennor, which had been replanted and now flourished. A fire was going in the hearth, casting a multitude of dancing shadows over the walls.  
  
Eowyn was running her hand over the blankets, an odd look in her eyes. "It reminds me of Theoden's bed. Eomer, Theodred and I would all leap on it as children because we loved feeling like we could fly." She cast a playful glance my way and stepped out of her shoes. To my amazement, she climbed up and stood on the bed, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other. Suddenly, with a laugh, she jumped up and landed safely back on the mattress in a ball. "It even has the same high ceilings," she said, a smile playing about her lips.  
  
"Faramir," she implored, extending a hand to me, "Jump with me!"  
  
"Eowyn! I hardly think it's proper," I exclaimed, barely able to contain my amusement.  
  
With a giggle, she stood and began to jump again. "Your loss, my lord!" she cried in delight.  
  
I sighed. There would be no winning with this woman. In resignation, I bent over to remove my boots. Once finished, I rose and looked up at her. She looked so content, spinning and falling and laughing. I frowned and shook my head at her.  
  
Her smile faded and I could imagine her thinking that I was too stuffy for. I could even imagine that right then she was trying to figure a way out of marriage to an uptight old man. "I'm sorry, my lord," she said, sounding like a guilty child.  
  
"You should be," I said in my most serious voice. I climbed onto the bed beside her and lightly kissed her forehead. "I detest it when you call me 'my lord'".  
  
The smile returned to light up her face. "I am sorry for my grave mistake," she laughed. "Will you forgive me, Faramir?"  
  
I leaned my forehead against hers and smiled. I had always despised my name until the first time she had uttered it. Afterwards it had always sounded so much sweeter, more intense. I wished to hear her say it as often as possible. "I must punish you, of course," I continued, keeping my voice somber.  
  
"Oh please, don't be too harsh," she said in mock fear.  
  
"I condemn you, then, to jump with me!" Immediately I was on my feet, and she followed suit. We jumped, laughing and joking, for over thirty minutes, until we collapsed in a breathless heap together.  
  
"I never guessed, my lady, that you would be the one to lead me in such antics," I said lightly, stretching out onto my back.  
  
"Now that's not fair," she said, rolling so that her head fell onto my chest. "If I cannot call you 'my lord', then you shall not call me 'my lady'."  
  
"Agreed," I said, wrapping an arm around her slight frame. "Eowyn?" I said, trailing my fingers through her hair.  
  
"Yes, Faramir?" she said, inching closer, throwing an arm across my stomach.  
  
"Do you love me?"  
  
She sat up suddenly to look at me. "We are to be wed tomorrow, and yet you ask this? I thought that you were supposed to be wise. I do not wish to marry a fool."  
  
"I would just like to be reassured," I said, turning on my side to face her. "Too little have I ever been told I am worth anything, and I would just like you to say it is so, if indeed it is."  
  
"My dearest Faramir, have my assurance that I do love you, and you are worth more to me now than anything else could ever hope to be."  
  
"I return the sentiment, love."  
  
We were silent for a while. She lay back down beside me and I thought for a little bit that she had fallen asleep. I was about to join her when she spoke. "I believe it is getting late, and I want to have enough energy for tomorrow," she said quietly. "May I take your leave?"  
  
"I would not grant your wish, if I did not want tomorrow to come sooner. You have my leave, lady." I released her from my arms and smiled up at her.  
  
"My lord, tomorrow will come soon enough." She did not say more, just curtsied and left me alone. As I heard the door close, I could not help but laugh. Imagine, the lady who slew the Witch King, jumping on a bed like an overgrown child! Truly, it was more than my luck to marry such a woman. 


	2. Gifts

Disclaimer- Same old, same old! It's not mine- if it was, I'd be a whole lot richer!  
  
Comments to my great reviewers- Kaiya, Jesse, Christine, GeneticallyElvenGryffindor, nap-003, faramirluvva, emeraldphoenix2, blu ize: Thank you much for reading and reviewing! It does help to know you like it!  
  
The Lady Sheildmaiden: My first reviewer! Thank you so much!! I'm glad that you could see Eowyn as playful, because I was wondering how that would come across.  
  
Starbrow: I'm thrilled you didn't think they were sickeningly sweet! That is what I am trying to stay away from. Also, thanks for pointing out what you liked, it helps a lot.  
  
P.I.D.: That was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me!!! ~Sniff~  
  
Chapter Two- Gifts  
  
Of all of the day' ceremonies, I liked this last one the best. Sitting in the large, comfortable library, tucked on a couch beside my new husband, my friends gathered around us. it was blissful.  
  
The wedding ceremonies in Gondor lasted a lot longer than they did in Rohan. I was not sure if it was just because it was the Steward marrying, or if they all lasted three hours. There were so many oaths I had to swear, not only to Faramir, but to Gondor and the King, all of which I had to say because of my being a foreigner and all. Faramir had to speak barely at all, but when he said his vows to me, they were lovely, and I knew he meant them, even if they were just traditional responses.  
  
Finally, we were allowed to kiss and the marriage official. I was now a citizen of Gondor, but more than that, I was the Steward's Wife. Amidst the cheering, Faramir leaned in towards my ear and whispered, "Are you acceptably happy, my lady?"  
  
"More happy than I have ever been, my lord," I answered softly. "What comes next? Not more standing around swearing myself to various places and people, I hope."  
  
"No, next is the public reception. For a few hours, the entire city will be celebrating, and all the people may come forward to wish us luck and leave us gifts. We just sit and talk to them, but they will be most keen to speak to you, as many of them have seen me for most of their lives."  
  
And so we sat in the garden and celebrated with the people of Gondor until nightfall. As the darkness grew thick, King Elessar came to us and said, "It is time, my lord and lady, to retire for our private reception." Faramir nodded and took my hand. This at least, I expected. I had been asked to pick several people I would like to attend a small dinner and party after the wedding. I had been at a loss. I had no real close friends, but did not really wish to admit that to Faramir, instead I had asked him who he was to invite.  
  
"The King and Queen, of course, and your brother. Also, I have invited Legolas and Gimli, who have been so kind to us, and Gandalf, who was always my friend as a boy. Frodo and Sam, not to mention Merry and Pippin, have all been invited already; I sent the messengers away earlier. Frodo and Sam cannot come, as Sam is newly married himself, and Frodo has been ill. In addition, I have invited my uncle Prince Imrahil, and my only close friend, Beregond."  
  
"Then there is no one I will add," I answered, hoping he would not ask about any friends. But he simply nodded, and then I knew he understood. He understood the loneliness that oftentimes came with being a noble, the way finding friends was difficult in a King's court.  
  
So now we sat, with all those invited, digesting our magnificent supper. The guests were engaged in small talk for the most part, and for the first time all day, the attention did not seem focused on Faramir and I. At least, it wasn't for a little bit.  
  
"Lady Eowyn, when will you be opening your gifts?" Pippin inquired, his feet swinging more than a few inches from the ground. He and Merry looked dwarfed on the couch they had chosen, a large overstuffed thing with many pillows.  
  
"Well, I don't know exactly," I stammered, looking over at Faramir. "When do we begin?"  
  
"I suppose, anytime we wish," he said with a smile. "May I ask, Pippin, what is the big hurry?"  
  
"Well, I had such a lovely gift for the two of you, I'd really like to see you open it! Besides, Gimli looks as if he might fall asleep any moment now."  
  
The dwarf quickly sat up, his eyes becoming focused. "What? I was just resting a bit, it's been such a long day."  
  
"If anyone deserves to be tired, it's Eowyn," Eomer said with a smile. "It was more of an interrogation than a wedding. Tell me, must all people swear so much?"  
  
"No, not usually, it is because she is marrying such an important official. We could not have someone disloyal to Gondor wed to the Steward," Elessar said, smiling softly at Faramir. My new husband blushed softly. He did not think much of his position, now that there was a king. It flattered what pride he had to be called important by a man he greatly admired.  
  
Yes, since Elessar had come to the throne, he and Faramir had befriended one another rather quickly. In the beginning, Faramir seemed cautious around him, maybe because he feared my affections would stray. It had been true that I thought I loved the future king, but once I had kissed Faramir high up on the walls of the city, I had desired no other. My love for Elessar was proved false, and I wished only to be a Lady of Gondor, not its Queen.  
  
"Well, I suppose we could begin to open the gifts now," Faramir said quietly. "And since it is he who is so impatient, Master Peregrin shall have his gifts opened first." He reached into a pile of nicely wrapped gifts at the foot of the couch and withdrew a small package. "Would you like to open it, my lady?"  
  
"I think that you shall, and I will open Master Meriadoc's, if that pleases you," I said. I did not wish to begin a custom foreign to me.  
  
"Very well," Faramir said, carefully unwrapping the little package. Inside was a little book, no bigger than the palm of my hand, the cover bearing the Tree of Gondor. Faramir opened it to reveal a few pages written on in blue ink, and many more empty ones.  
  
"It's a book of all the weddings which took place in Gondor over 600 years ago. It was in the library in my old house, and well, why we Tooks have many books, I never expected that to be there. Look at the last page that has writing," Pippin instructed, a wide smile on his face.  
  
Faramir flipped a few pages to one written on in red ink, in a far different writing style. "Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, and Lady Eowyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan and Princess of Ithilien," he read. The date followed, written with a large flourish. "Why, thank you very much, Master Peregrin, this is surely a treasure."  
  
Merry's present came next. It was a rug, "woven by my own sister," he said proudly. It had the White Tree in one corner, the standard of Rohan in another, and the rest was a small country scene. "Gondor, Rohan, and the Shire, all together," he said with a small smirk. "I figured you could use it as a heirloom or something."  
  
There was a small round of laughter. Faramir proceeded to open another small box, which contained some seeds. "They're from Sam. He thought the two of you might like to start your own garden with some rather unique bulbs from the Shire," Pippin said.  
  
"That is quite a good idea," I said. "I have always wanted a garden of my own, and surely it would not be complete without some flowers from other lands."  
  
Frodo had sent a small book containing papers he had written on the two of us. Faramir read some of it aloud and laughed. "He flatters you, my lady. I begin to fear I will lose you to a sweet tongued hobbit."  
  
"Well, he also recognizes you as a noble and good man. You do have quite friend in him, my lord." Faramir smiled at me and rested his hand on mine. Indeed, I could tell it touched him to see that others held him in such esteem. I smiled back.  
  
Beregond gave Faramir a new sword, and me a small ring of ruby. I declared that he should not have given me so much and he colored. "Why, Lady, I figured that anyone worthy of Lord Faramir deserved the very best, at least," he said, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
I laughed and smiled at him. "Well, do not let it become a habit. I would have you and your wife be good friends of ours, so do not think of us as just your Lord and Lady." He reddened even more and nodded.  
  
I gasped as Eomer presented Faramir with his gift. It was a spear of the Rohirrim, very old, and it had hung in Meduseld for many years. It was truly an honor for my husband to receive it, and he saw from the look on my face that it was so. "My many thanks, King Eomer, but I do not think I can accept this. You have already given me the most precious thing in your kingdom, and I could ask for no more."  
  
"But you must, for I think highly of you, and I am glad that my sister chose you for a husband. You are a good man, Faramir of Gondor, and I would have you take this as yet another token of appreciation. As for you," Eomer said, turning to me. "There is not much I can give. I could not find something suitable for you, and I was worried I would never find anything. But then, dear sister, I found this in your old rooms." He handed me a leather bound journal, worn and old. I immediately knew what it was.  
  
"My old picture book," I said, opening it. The inside was full of sketches I had drawn as a young child, many of horses and of Eomer and Theodred playing at sword fighting.  
  
"You have talent," Faramir said, watching as I flipped through the pages.  
  
"Eomer, this is a great gift. Thank you, brother," I said, rising to hug him. He held me tightly in return, but said no more, for his eyes were wet with tears.  
  
Legolas and Gimli both presented me with necklaces, the dwarf's made of jewels from the Glittering Caves, the elf's the purest silver, surrounding a shiny pearl. To Faramir they gave a coat of mithril, woven through with diamonds, which rendered us speechless for a moment, and a longbow made by the elves of Mirkwood. There was no way to express our excitement, except for a few hugs and a quick kiss for Gimli, at which he blushed furiously and returned to his chair. Gandalf gave Faramir a large book filled with the wizard's notes on Gondor, as he had taken them for the past few hundred years. To me he gave the notes of Rohan, which I could not read, but I did not say. Faramir had already offered his help, and I knew that this would be the first thing I would try to read.  
  
Prince Imrahil came next. I opened mine first, which was a small painting of the sea, which I was informed Faramir had painted many years ago. Now it was my husband's time to blush, which he did with must gusto and a small laugh. Still quite embarrassed at his early attempt at art, he opened his present rather quickly, then stopped.  
  
"This, Faramir, is one I painted myself, many years ago when you visited me for the summer," Imrahil said. I leaned over to look at it and saw why it was that Faramir stopped. It was a portrait of two boys, one about ten, the other still a toddler, sitting on a long sandy stretch, looking at the ocean. I immediately recognized my love's features, and I could see them echoed in the older boy as well.  
  
"Why, it is Boromir and I, on the beach in Dol Amroth," Faramir said slowly. His voice sounded a little shaky, and he did not take his eyes off the picture. "It is wonderfully done. It looks as it did that very day. I can remember that was my first visit, and I was scared of the water. Boromir had to hold my hand the whole time."  
  
There was a pause and silence fell heavily on the room. Finally, Faramir set the picture aside and smiled at his uncle. "It is lovely, and I shall always cherish it. Thank you for this gift." He leaned back and looked down at his hands. "Eowyn, love, would you like to open the last one?" he said, his voice a bit strained.  
  
Quickly, I reached for the last gift. I knew that Faramir was dwelling on that picture, perhaps getting lost in another memory, but I wanted him to stay focused on our present situation. He could reminisce later, in private, where his emotions did not have to be held in check.  
  
Inside the box was a long blue gown and a regal looking tunic of the same color. "They are elven," said Queen Arwen with a small smile. "I made them myself, with the materials and patterns of Rivendell. The color will suit you both marvelously."  
  
I smiled as I stroked the material. "It is so lovely and soft. Thank you very much, my Lady."  
  
King Elessar stood and spread his arms. "I am sorry I have no gift that is physical enough to be wrapped. But, I do hope you will like it, all the same. I know, Faramir, that you will not want to spend all your time in Minas Tirith, and I know you would like a dwelling in Ithilien. So, please, I bid you, take the next month off of your duties to build yourself and Lady Eowyn a home in the Emyn Arnen. And until then, Lady Eowyn, please feel free to go anywhere in the city, or even in all of Gondor. Queen Arwen would also like to spend time with you, so that the two of you might become good friends."  
  
Together, Faramir and I stood and bowed. "Thank you, my King," he said. "This is truly a great gift, so that I may begin my life with Lady Eowyn with ease."  
  
"You are welcome, my friend," Elessar said with a smile. "But for now, you both look weary, so I would bid all to go to their rooms, and have a good night's rest. The two of you especially." He embraced the both of us and kissed our foreheads. All the other guests followed suit.  
  
Faramir tugged my hand, and with a final farewell, we departed the library. "What about all the gifts? Do we just leave them there?" I asked, suddenly realizing.  
  
He led me down the hall to our new rooms. "They will be gathered and brought to our apartments tomorrow," he said quietly. He paused for a moment and sighed. "It was a lovely painting," he said finally.  
  
"Yes, it really was. But, my love, do not let it bother you too much. Tonight is our wedding night, after all." We stopped in front of our door. Faramir gazed at me sadly, his gray eyes thoughtful. Then suddenly, he smiled a playful little grin. "Yes, of course, my lady, we should do our best to enjoy it." With that he opened the door and ushered me inside. Immediately, he put his hands on his face and kissed me, kicking the door shut behind us. 


	3. Women And The Steward's Sons

Note: This is of course, the wedding night, and we all know what couples do on their wedding night. So, if you don't want to see some mild Faramir/Eowyn, don't look! Also, this chapter features the first flashback, which is denoted by a line of asterisks. Any other passages of time, like a few hours or so, are shown by a line of dashes. So, with that in mind, enjoy! And once again, thanks to all my reviewers! I love you all!  
  
Disclaimer: It's not mine again, I don't want any money!  
  
Chapter Three- Women and The Steward's Sons  
  
"My lord?"  
  
I groaned and look up at Eowyn, my eyes pleading. "Please, love, we've been through this. This is not the time to be 'lording' me."  
  
"I'm sorry," she said simply, a subtle blush rising in her cheeks. "I just wanted to ask if you were okay."  
  
I smiled and placed my head on her shoulder. She had very soft skin, and an extremely entrancing body. Unfortunately, every time I moved past her shoulders, she began talking, so that I had to look up and speak to her. Not that I didn't like talking to her, but. "Well, Eowyn, I haven't been able to do much, but I suppose I'm fine. I think it's you who's having a problem. Tell me, what's wrong?"  
  
She sighed and smiled at me. "Am I not allowed to be a little nervous?" she said, stroking my cheek gently.  
  
"Do I frighten you that much?" I said, suddenly concerned. It had never occurred to me that she would be this timid about it. Of course she was a maiden and all, but. well, she was Eowyn, and she wasn't timid about anything.  
  
She laughed and tilted her head so that it pressed against mine. "No, you don't frighten me at all, my love. It's just that, well, all the women in Meduseld said it was painful, the first time especially, and I didn't want to ruin it for you."  
  
I brought my head back so that I was looking directly into her eyes. They were very clear and easy to read. Ever since she had proclaimed that she would marry me, her eyes reflected the open attitude we maintained with each other, and it was easy for me to know her feelings. Tonight, I saw something new there- naivety.  
  
"Ruin it for me?" I asked, almost incredulously. "This night is supposed to be for you as well. No, it is supposed to be more for you, since this is your first time and it should be special."  
  
"But, really, it's not as if I'll like it or anything!" she said, a smirk on her face. She looked as if I were just playing some joke on her to calm her nerves.  
  
"Well, why wouldn't you?" I inquired, confused now. "I promise I'll do as much as I can to make it feel. pleasurable and."  
  
Eowyn immediately burst out laughing. "Pleasurable? Faramir, you mean to tell me that you believe there is pleasure in this for me? From all that I have heard in Rohan, there are few women who get anything from it but a headache and a child!"  
  
"Well, the women I've been with all seemed to find it pleasurable indeed!" I said harshly and then blushed. Eowyn had never asked, of course, but I had not intended to tell her of my past experiences on our own wedding night! I felt quite stupid all of a sudden.  
  
"Did you think, Faramir, that I thought you were untouched?" Eowyn said, her hand tangling itself in my hair as she sensed my distress. "I did not expect that you would be. You are a very handsome man, and hold great position within the country, and any lady would give anything to be with you."  
  
"But I did not feel for them like I feel for you, not in the least bit." I placed my hands on her cheeks and drew her face towards mine. I kissed her lightly, tenderly, and I felt her relax. It was kind of an odd sensation, the way she almost crumpled against me, as if I were taking her life with my lips. Her hands slowly came up around my shoulders and she pulled me tight, like she depended on me to save her.  
  
"Please, Faramir," she said, pulling her mouth away from mine for a moment, "I really would like to feel something. something spectacular."  
  
"And I promise, you will, my love," I said, dropping my mouth to her collarbone. I made my way down very slowly and deliberately, checking often the look on my new wife's face. I could not disappoint her, at least not in this aspect of our marriage. If I failed her here, I wondered what kind of husband I could possibly be. I had never overly enjoyed being with women to begin with. I had always needed a connection, and no one whom I had ever been with before had given that to me. I was now depending on Eowyn as much as she was depending on me.  
  
She was reacting to me now, sitting up and undoing the laces of my shirt as I moved my lips back up to meet hers. "Am I doing okay?" she asked breathily, exhaling into my ear.  
  
I felt a warm shiver pass through my body and my breath caught in my throat. "Yes, yes, very good, you are a natural. Though, Eowyn, I don't believe this is the time to talk."  
  
"Well then you will have to silence me," she said, her voice low and tempting. I parted my lips slightly and leaned in towards her, and did exactly as she said to.  
  
------------------------------------------------  
  
"Was it all that bad?" I asked, gently running one hand through Eowyn's damp hair.  
  
She snuggled up closer to me. "No, it only hurt for a little bit. I'm surprised, though, because, for a while, it felt. incredible!"  
  
I tugged the sheets up so they were covering us and kissed her forehead. We were laying on our sides facing each other, each relaxing after our first mutual adventure. Eowyn's face was lit up with a soft glow, and I could tell I had done something right. I had been able to feel it, the way we connected. It had seemed so natural and very comforting.  
  
"That's good at least," I sighed, staring into her eyes as she put her head next to mine on the pillow.  
  
"Will you tell me something, Faramir?" she said, pressing her forehead against mine.  
  
"Anything you want to know," I said sleepily. It was so relaxing, laying there entangled in a mass of limbs and sheets. I closed my eyes.  
  
"Tell me something about your brother."  
  
My eyes shot open. "What? Now? Why?" I asked, sounding a bit panicky. I knew what would happen if I thought about him. I would get the nightmares, something I did not want, this least of all nights.  
  
"Because, Faramir, it's just something I really want to know." She kissed me lightly. "Please?"  
  
I could feel a cold sweat breaking out on my back and it unnerved me. "If you really want to know. I suppose a short story couldn't hurt." With a deep sigh, I pulled her closer and began.  
  
********************************  
  
"So? Pretty wonderful, wasn't it?" Boromir exclaimed, leaning back in his chair.  
  
Faramir shook his head and sighed. "No, not really," he said sadly.  
  
His brother sat up in a shot. "No? Faramir, what are you talking about? I've been with Lady Ramalin before, and she's nothing short of spectacular! You're a seventeen year old man- you should be enjoying yourself!"  
  
"It wasn't what I expected," Faramir asserted, turning a bright shade of red. "I shouldn't have let you arrange that with her."  
  
Boromir shook his head and sighed. "Little brother, are you dreaming of romance? There is little of that in the world, if there ever was any to begin with. Certainly, being the son of the Steward, you will be marrying for alliances, not love, if there really is such a thing."  
  
"Come now Boromir, I know you believe in love," Faramir scoffed. "Father loves you, surely you understand that."  
  
"Don't start that now," Boromir said sharply, and the younger closed his mouth abruptly. "I know you have your issues with Father, but I'd rather not talk about that at the moment. There are other things we could speak of. Chief among those being why you didn't enjoy your little escapade last night."  
  
Faramir could tell by the tone in his brother's voice that there would be no escaping the subject. He sighed and gave in, as he usually did to his beloved older sibling. "I just expected there to be some kind of emotional connection, that's all. She was very." he hesitated for a moment and blushed deeper. "Well, she was very skilled, and well, it felt quite good, but, it would have been better if I had cared something for her."  
  
There was silence for a bit, as the two brothers regarded each other. Their faces were very similar; the elder's being more full and rugged, along with his build. However, everyone in Gondor knew the differences between the two's manners, and to them, Boromir seemed to be the more outstanding one. Well, to everyone Boromir was the outstanding one, even to Faramir himself.  
  
"Little brother," Boromir said finally, "You cannot expect everything to be like one of those tales you used to read about in the old Elvish books. These are evil times, and our duty lies first with our country, not to a romantic notion of love and marriage."  
  
"Don't you think I know that?" Faramir retorted. "Don't you think that Father lets me know about my duties, and how I fail to carry them out in every single way possible? My greatest achievements are nothing compared to the precedent set by you."  
  
"Are you jealous of me then?" Boromir asked, taken a little aback.  
  
"No, I am not jealous, for I can tell how difficult it is to be you. I could not be forced to be the next Steward, for it is true- I would fail in every way possible," Faramir responded with a sigh. "At least I could be happy if I were respected for who I am, and not made to be your double, which I can never in my wildest dreams hope to be. Apparently, I cannot even bed a woman like you can, my brother."  
  
Boromir laughed and stood. "Do not be so hard on yourself. My first time was not so grand either. And, if it bothers you so to not have my skills in battle, I could keep helping you practice with the sword, so that maybe my extreme greatness will rub off on you."  
  
Faramir grinned and sprang up beside his brother. "Of course, oh great one, I would be honored." And as they walked off, neither could tell if they were joking or being serious.  
  
*******************************************  
  
"He sounds very nice," Eowyn said quietly.  
  
"Yes, he really was an incredible man, destined for greater things than I believe he had time to accomplish," I whispered, still lost in my thoughts. "I miss him."  
  
"I believe I would have liked, had we met," my new wife said. She moved closer to me, so that we were further entangled in ourselves. "I do disagree with his theory on love, for I have found my true romance in you. Do not be sad, my love, for think of us, and what we can be, and know that he would be happy for you."  
  
"Yes, you're right, I suppose, but I miss him all the same," I said. Suddenly I yawned, and realized I had been up for over a day now. I knew that I shouldn't have gotten up long before dawn in anticipation for the wedding!  
  
"It shall be delightful to fall asleep with you," Eowyn murmured, closing her eyes and then speaking no more. I, in turn, shut my eyes and thought of the experience I had just shared with her, and tried to block out the memory of Boromir's face. Eventually, and to my amazement, it worked, and I had no nightmares for many weeks. 


	4. Headaches

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, it's all Tolkien's, I swear!  
  
Chapter Four- Headaches  
  
Night had fallen on yet another day and still I was alone. The grand bed seemed even bigger when there was only my body there to fill it. I laid my head on the pillows furthest from the window and looked out sadly into the night. Were Faramir there, he would have been sitting on his edge of the bed, talking lightly of the days' events, and then moving on to speak of our new home in Emyn Arnen. It was there that he was now, helping to supervise the construction of the new House of the Stewards.  
  
He had been gone for a week, and I actually wasn't expecting him for another few days, but this was the first time since our marriage that we had been apart. After those first couple weeks when we had basically lived off of each other, rarely even leaving our apartments, we decided that it would be best to start the building of our own house, outside of the city. Elessar had given him some the materials needed, promised to send more if the when arose, and Faramir was off.  
  
He was not so far away, only a few hours' ride at most, but he had suggested I used our time apart to spend time with the Queen and start my apprenticeship in the Houses of Healing. I did just that, being more at ease with the latter than the former. I thoroughly enjoyed being in the Houses, for I knew that somewhere, sometime, knowing these skills could come in handy. Talking with Arwen had been a different matter altogether. It was intimidating enough, her being the queen and all, but as an elf, she was all the more foreign to me. She seemed so educated and wise, and in her presence I felt insignificant and ugly, like a peasant beside a prince.  
  
Three days after Faramir's departure, I had finally gotten up the nerve to approach the Queen. I had been eating luncheon with her and Elessar every day, and we would talk of little things, such as our differing customs and the business of the Citadel. However, on this third day, Elessar excused himself early to attend to some matter concerning the guards, and Arwen and I were left alone. We sat in silence for a while, until I finally decided to speak up.  
  
"My Lady, would you like to go through the gardens with me for a while?" I said quietly, nervously. "It has been dreadfully lonely without Faramir, and I am tired of walking by myself."  
  
She had nodded and smiled. "Of course, that's a lovely idea. I have been inside with Elessar much in the past few days, and it would be nice to go out for air."  
  
And so we had preceded out of the Citadel and into the gardens, making small talk the entire way. Eventually, she asked me to tell her something of her childhood and I obliged, telling her of Theoden and Eomer, and how my parents had died, and how lovely Edoras was in the spring. I told her of some adventure my brother and I had gotten into and I was surprised when she laughed aloud. She was even more beautiful then, and I felt silly, telling these stories to such a graceful and intelligent elf. I admitted this, rather hesitantly, and she laughed again.  
  
"No, please, I would not have you stop. My own childhood was so concerned with learning lore and caring for my family after my mother's passing, that I had little time for merriment," she said, leaning over a rampart and looking down over the city.  
  
"Oh, I did not know that your mother was dead. I never thought of Lord Elrond as having a wife," I said simply, not really knowing how to respond.  
  
Arwen smiled softly and turned to me. "My mother is not dead, she has passed. I forgot that men use that term to refer to those who are no longer living. I meant that she has left, gone over the Sea to the Undying Lands, where all her hurt and pains shall be eased. That was many, many years ago, and always have I wanted to see her again. Alas, I gave up that chance when I fell in love and married Elessar. Now I am bound to these lands, and never shall I cross the Sea to join her." She placed a pale silken hand on my cheek and sighed. "You too know the pain of leaving your people behind. I suppose we have more in common than I had thought. Yes, we both have given up places of honor among our people to marry the men we love."  
  
"I fear though, My Lady, that your loss is greater than mine," I said quietly. I had never thought of the Queen and I being similar before, and I thought it would be out of my place to acknowledge it now.  
  
"Who can tell? All will be decided at the end of days, and all shall be reunited again. Now, I would like to turn to happier things again. Tell me more of yourself Eowyn, for I find your culture fascinating," Arwen said with a warm smile.  
  
"My Queen, I find it hard to believe that you find my life so interesting, when it is you who is so much more intriguing. I am sorry, but I would ask that you tell me a little of yourself as well," I said boldly, hoping she did not think me too impudent.  
  
She just laughed again, and I was reminded of the gentle trickle of water, soothing and light. "Why, my lady Eowyn, I admire your intrepid nature. I would be happy to return the favor: A story for a story!"  
  
"Why thank you, my Queen. I do this in part for my Lord Faramir. He would not forgive me if I passed up a chance to learn of the elves straight from one of their own."  
  
"Well, if I knew that Lord Faramir was so interested in our history, I would have told him anything he wished. He is not so bold as you in some aspects of life, and I am not surprised he did not ask. However, I do believe the both of you compliment each other very well, and it makes me happy to know that you are content."  
  
We continued talking for most of the afternoon, and by the time that Elessar found us, just before dinner actually, we were on a first name basis, and I realized that she knew more of my past than my own husband.  
  
I was reflecting on all of my conversations with the queen when I heard a clatter from the hall. It was distant, the bedchamber being located far from the main door, but it was still loud enough for me to hear the name "Faramir" amidst all the noise. Immediately I was up, pulling my night robe tightly about my bed clothes as I hurried through the apartment.  
  
Flinging open the door, I was faced with a welcome sight. Faramir himself was standing there, with a young servant carrying his things. My husband smiled sheepishly at me and turned to the boy. "Put my things in this first room here, then leave us," he said kindly, gesturing towards the door.  
  
"But, my Lord, your head." the boy began nervously.  
  
"Nevermind that, just please do as I say," Faramir said, firmer this time. The boy nodded and I stepped aside as he dropped the bags carefully to the floor and departed. As he ran down the hall, Faramir stepped into the room, shut the door behind him, and turned to kiss me. I fell into his arms with relief and happiness, relishing in the pleasure he delivered to my senses. He smelled of musk and herbs, his kiss the flavor of light wine. It was with hesitancy that I let him pull his lips from mine and step from my embrace.  
  
"You are early," I said, but I was not accusing, rather, I sounded enraptured. "Why are you home so soon?"  
  
"The building goes well and I wanted to see you again," he said, stroking my cheek gently. "Is that a crime?"  
  
"No, not at all, it is just strange. Especially since it is almost an hour past nightfall. And," I said, regarding him, "What was it that the boy was saying about your head?"  
  
"Eowyn, my love, what is it I have done to earn your suspicions?" he said, sounding distressed. "Are you not glad to see me home?"  
  
"Of course I am, Faramir, but. oh!"  
  
"Oh, what?" he asked, but he already knew. He raised his hand to his temple, where a small trickle of blood had come from underneath his hair. He regarded his red fingertips casually and shrugged. "My horse was frightened by something in the dark, and she bucked. It did not hurt much, though everyone has fussed over it. Both the guards traveling with me, and then the servant boy, advised me to go to the Houses, but I wanted to come straight to you."  
  
"But Faramir, you are bleeding! Come to the bedchambers and lay down, and let me look at it for you!" I ordered, pointing to the door.  
  
He laughed and did as he was told. "I may assume, then, that you began your apprenticeship at the Houses?" he asked, sitting on the bed, looking bemused.  
  
I sat beside him and brushed back his hair. Such lovely brownish red hair it was too, and for a moment, I envied my own husband. Then, I found the wound, right on his temple as I suspected, and stiffened. Indeed, it looked as if it had been bleeding for some time now, and I wondered if it was that deep.  
  
"Fine, if you will not answer me, I will surely assume! Eowyn, really, it is not that bad!" he said, a touch of exasperation coming into his voice.  
  
"I am sorry, Faramir, it is just that I wish no harm to come to you! Indeed I have been at the Houses, and have learned how dangerous small wounds can sometimes be!"  
  
With a heavy sigh, Faramir pulled his head out of my grasp and laid back on the pillows. "I have been wounded many times before, my love, and this is not the worst! What my real illness is would be a lack of sleep! I found it hard to fall asleep without you there to keep me warm. It was the first time I ever had trouble taking my rest in Ithilien. I am very tired, and all I would like is to go to bed with you by my side." He looked up at me beseechingly. "Please, love, just lay here beside me for a while. I promise I'll even lay on one side so I don't get blood on the pillow."  
  
His light hearted sarcasm, which would have normally made me laugh, instead made me burst into tears. Alarmed he sat up and cradled me in his arms. "What is it?" he asked, stroking my hair. "It is really not that bad! Tell me, Eowyn, what is wrong?"  
  
"I do not like seeing people with head injuries!" I said through my tears. "It brings back painful memories, ones I do not want to recall. But they come back anyways!" I let my head fall onto his shoulder as another sob racked my body.  
  
"It's okay, my dear, I understand that very well," he said softly. "The ones you would choose not to remember are the ones that burn themselves into you and are a part of you forever. Would you care to tell me, Eowyn, why this upsets you so?"  
  
I pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. They were gray and full of understanding and sympathy. Had anyone else offered me this compassion, I may have rejected and scorned it, but from Faramir, it seemed right, and I could not deny him. He had experienced much that had hurt him as well, though he still chose to keep many things from me, locked behind doors without very good chains. Someday, I hoped I could destroy those chains and have him open himself to me, but I realized that I would have to let him do the same to me.  
  
*****************  
  
The sun was setting far off in the distance when Eowyn and Eomer first heard the calls. In the great hall of Meduseld, Eowyn found it hard to hear much of anything, what with the bustling of the people around her. It was too much for such a young girl. She much preferred being outside.  
  
Her mother looked up in concern and frowned. "Theoden!" she called to her brother, the king. "Theoden, I did not expect the riders to be back so soon!"  
  
"Neither did I," he said quietly, rising from the table, a look of puzzlement on his face. "I will return," he said simply, and left the hall.  
  
Eowyn glanced over at her older brother. "What is happening, Eomer? Is Daddy home already?"  
  
Both her mother and her sibling shot her withering looks. She sighed and returned to her soup, eating with all the gusto of a starved horse. She did not bother to notice how her family had stopped their own supper.  
  
A crash of opening doors and the clamor of voices suddenly reached her ears. She looked over the top of the table (a great feat for one so small) and saw four men carrying another, wounded and bleeding, quickly through the hall. The man was bleeding profusely from the temple.  
  
Eowyn was astounded. She had simply never seen so much blood in her whole life, let alone coming form a person! "Eomer, isn't that frightening? Eomer?"  
  
Her brother had gone cold and stiff. As had her mother. Suddenly, the older women let out a great wail and leapt from her seat, following the wounded man's train into another room.  
  
"What is wrong? Eomer, answer me!!! Eomer!" She was a girl of little patience and, exasperated, she punched her brother in the arm.  
  
"Shut your mouth, Eowyn, are you blind? Or just stupid?" he hissed, finally turning to look at her.  
  
"Neither, of course!" she snapped in her child's voice. "What is the problem? Men are wounded all the time, even though that poor man was bleeding an awful lot. Will he die, Eomer?"  
  
Eomer's mouth dropped as he regarded his sister. Tears sprang into his eyes and he embraced her. "You had better hope not," he said, his voice strained.  
  
Eowyn did not like being hugged, especially in public, so she beat her brother off. "Why? Why am I hoping that? Why are you crying?"  
  
"Did you not see who that was?" he choked, turning pink with frustration and sadness.  
  
"No!!! No, I didn't!! Stop playing with me and tell me." She had looked past Eomer to see her father's best friend standing beside the door they had taken the bleeding man into. The man who accompanied her father everywhere was standing beside the door and crying.  
  
It was then that the little Eowyn knew, and with a wail, she announced her newfound understanding to the world.  
  
*******************************  
  
"He had been shot by orcs and fallen off of his horse. The arrow wound itself was not so dreadful, but he hit his head on a rock as he fell. He did not live to see the morning."  
  
I had fallen so that my head was cradled in Faramir's lap and I was looking up at him. He had sat through my story at listened with great attentiveness, watching my eyes always. I felt strangely calm, even though I had just recounted my father's death for the very first time in my life.  
  
"Do you understand now, why I did not like seeing you bleeding from the head like that?" I asked, blinking back a stray tear.  
  
"Yes, I understand perfectly now. It took great courage for you to tell me that, Eowyn. It always takes courage to bring up the past," he said, stroking my cheek. "I am a great coward, then."  
  
"You are not, my love, not at all. Your losses are more recent then mine, and you have been so caught up in everything that you have not had enough time to come to terms with them," I said softly.  
  
"Yes, that could be it," he said quietly. "Would you like to bind my head, or at least clean it? Maybe it would make you feel better, to know that you can take care of me."  
  
"Yes, of course, love," I said. I helped him to his feet and brought him into our bath chambers, where I used a little jug of fresh water to clean out the wound. He was silent through the whole thing, though he tensed each time I touched it. "Does it hurt much?" I asked, drying it off with a soft towel.  
  
"Only when you touched it. It is to be expected," he said softly.  
  
"Well, I'm finished now. You can go to bed now if you wish," I said, and he nodded. I put away the jug and hung up the towel as he went into the bedroom to change. As I crawled into bed, he finished pulling on his night shirt and sat beside me.  
  
"Faramir?" I asked, watching him. His face looked more downcast than it had earlier, and I knew he was lost in thought once again.  
  
"Yes, love?"  
  
"Will you tell me your stories someday? I feel as if I know nothing about you," I said, reaching for his hand. It was dirty from his week in Ithilien, but still softer than most men's, and gentler.  
  
"Yes, Eowyn, I promise, just. not tonight? Please?"  
  
His voice rang with such unspoken pain that I could not press the matter further. I wanted to weep just listening to his pleading, but I did not. I just tugged his hand.  
  
"No, not tonight. Whenever you wish. Now, love, come to bed. I have missed you much this week."  
  
He smiled again. "Of course you did. Let me show you how much I have missed you as well." 


	5. Nightmares

Disclaimer: All the standard ones apply!  
  
Note- Sorry that this took me so long, and that I haven't been replying to reviewers. I've been awfully busy, but I'd like to let you know that I appreciate all your comments, and thanks for reading.  
  
Chapter Five- Nightmares  
  
Burning. Everything was burning. Mother and Father were there, both of them, trying to protect Boromir from the flames. I rushed towards them, feeling the heat lick at my heels, but Father pushed me away. "We can only save one," he said curtly. Then they turned and covered my older brother with their bodies, shielding him. He struggled for a minute, called out my name, and reached for me. His hand was so close, but our parents pulled him back. I could feel the heat grow closer to me, but still I strained towards him, until I grasped his fingers. They were cold as ice. Not understanding, I still tried to hold on, but then they were gone, all of them, and I was alone to face the fires for myself. They grew closer and closer and all I could do was throw myself to the floor and weep.  
  
I sat upright, clutching my pillow to my chest. It was not warm outside- unseasonably cool, actually - but I was soaked in a bath of my own sweat. My breath was ragged and my muscles were sore, leaving me feeling like I had run from Gondor to Rohan in only a day. I shivered, perhaps from the breeze blowing in off the porch, but it felt much deeper than just a light chill.  
  
There was a rustling of sheets, and then a soft hand fell on my shoulder. "Faramir?" inquired Eowyn's voice, "Are you well?"  
  
I nodded, but did not turn to face her. "Yes, love, it was only a dream," I said quickly, not wanting my voice to betray my unease. "I'm sorry to have woken you."  
  
"I am sorry I did not awaken sooner." She pulled on my shoulders and I fell limply back into her arms. She began to fuss over me, pushing my hair back and adjusting my head so it fit perfectly into the crook of her elbow. "You may not want to strangle your pillow to death, my dear," she said lightly, prying the thing from my grasp.  
  
"Why are you making such a fuss over this, Eowyn?" I said, feeling my body relax. "It was just a nightmare."  
  
"You have had 'just nightmares' at least once a week for the past few months! You never tell me what they're about, even when I ask! Faramir, I am begging you once more, tell me!" Her eyes were wide and sad, beseeching me to tell her the truth. I felt her hand rest gently on the bare skin of my stomach and start to stroke softly around my navel. She had found out that this simple action was enough to soothe my nerves almost immediately, and used it now to her advantage.  
  
"You said you would not pressure me into talking about things I didn't want to discuss," I said slowly, doing my best not to anger her. Somehow, I knew this day would come, when she would try to persuade me into talking about my life before her, but I was reluctant to give in, even to my wife.  
  
"I said that five months ago. I did not expect that it would take you so long to come to terms with this. It has been almost two years!" she said quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.  
  
"It is not something I can easily accept." I said, surprised to feel myself getting angry. I wanted to tell her about myself, I really did, but some things were just too painful, too close, and I did not want to reveal them under duress.  
  
"Well Faramir, there is not much to accept! Your family is dead!" she snapped, suddenly annoyed at my lack of cooperation.  
  
"And so is most of yours, but have I badgered you about that!?" I sat up quickly, upset by the anger in my voice, but even more irked by Eowyn's belittlement of my situation. "You have told me quickly of your father, but nothing more, and that was only because I wanted to know about your fear of my injury! Don't you understand, Eowyn, that it isn't only their deaths that haunt me, but their lives as well? You know nothing of my family, and you do not understand what it was like to grow up like I did! Boromir protected me his entire life, even when it was in his best interest not to. But he felt obligated to shield me from Father, because who likes to see a weakling bullied by a tyrant?"  
  
Eowyn was silent for a moment, from shock or in contemplation, I could not tell. She simply watched me as I struggled to compose myself, feeling like an overgrown child at my outburst. I could not bring myself to meet her eyes, or even look in her direction.  
  
"Are you done?" she asked simply, her voice oddly flat. I had expected some compassion, or at least a simple touch, but there was no relief. I turned away and hung my head, then, to my great shame, I began to cry. If even Eowyn could not forgive me. my throat was suddenly constricted, and I took a deep, sobbing gulp of air.  
  
It was then that I felt her hand upon my back, her lips on the back of my head. "I am sorry," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "I am sorry for being a child."  
  
"Don't be," she whispered lightly, turning my head so I faced her. "You have every right to be. Faramir, I barely know anything about your past, but I'm sorry that I did not understand about." She paused uneasily. "I had heard that Boromir was first in your father's favors, but I never guessed."  
  
"He was not a bad man," I managed to say, tears still streaming down my face. "He loved his first born well and trained him to be the best man Gondor has ever seen. Unfortunately, once one has a perfect son and heir, one does not need anything more."  
  
"That isn't true. He loved you in his own way, Faramir."  
  
"And he had such a good way of showing me that," I responded angrily. "Sending me on a suicide mission after telling me he wished I were dead, then trying to burn me alive? If that is how you would love me, Eowyn, I would have you return to Rohan now, and spare us both grief."  
  
"He wasn't in his right mind."  
  
"He despised me even when he was! Eowyn, please, understand. My father and I never got along, and I have very few happy memories of him. It is hard to talk about him when most of the time it ends up making me feel worthless." I paused for a moment and thought. "I could prove it to you. You wanted to hear something about me, right?"  
  
"Yes, love," she stammered slightly, "But if you don't feel up to it."  
  
"No, Eowyn, you must believe me. You must understand, at least in a small way, why it hurts me so to think of him. Now, listen."  
  
*************************  
  
"But I don't want to go, Boromir!" screamed the struggling child. With a shriek and he kick, he managed to get away from his frustrated older brother.  
  
"Faramir, that's no way to act!" Boromir snapped angrily. You're almost six years old now, and you can't go to dinner looking like a baby!"  
  
"I don't want to go to dinner at all," the child pouted, still keeping his distance from his sibling.  
  
"Father will come up here and get you himself if you don't start to behave," Boromir retorted sharply. He regretted it, seeing the tiny look of fear that crept into Faramir's eyes. With resignation, the little boy stepped forward and allowed his brother to finish dressing him.  
  
"What if I don't finish my dinner?" Faramir inquired suddenly, his eyes wide. "What if I don't use the right fork, or if I don't talk right, or if I spill something, or if I don't like it or."  
  
"That's enough, Fari, you won't get yelled at for something like that," Boromir said, exasperated now.  
  
"YOU wouldn't, but I already have." And the little boy was right. Boromir could have overturned the table and danced naked around the room and gotten a quick scolding, but if Faramir dropped a pea, he would be swiftly and harshly reprimanded. It had been so ever since last summer, when their mother had died. Denethor, apparently attributing his wife's weakness to Faramir's difficult birth, suddenly seemed to have turned against his youngest child, which Boromir found quite appalling.  
  
"Come, Fari, dinner," Boromir said quietly, choosing not to reply to Faramir's remark. They quickly left the room and went down the hall, the younger tagging at the eldest's feet like a puppy.  
  
Boromir, without knocking, pushed open the door to the dining hall. Denethor sat alone at the table, staring off into the distance, his fingers tapping distractedly on his plate. He looked towards the door and smiled as his first born entered. The boy took the seat directly to his father's right. Faramir, forgotten, slunk into his place beside his brother.  
  
"You should knock, Boromir," Denethor began. "You must not forget your manners in court."  
  
"Yes, Father, I'm sorry," he replied. They shared a small smile, and then began their dinners, which were already served.  
  
"You are almost late tonight. Faramir, were you being difficult again?" Denethor said, directing his harsh question at the frightened youngster.  
  
"Y- Yes, Father, I'm sorry," he stammered, lowering his head.  
  
"Don't look down when I talk to you," snapped the older man suddenly. "Sit up straight, make eye contact! Your brother sets such a perfect example, and you do your best to blatantly disregard it! Next time that you are late you will receive no supper, hear?"  
  
"Yes, Father," the boy answered, trying to do as he was told. Denethor gazed at him for a moment, wearing a deep frown, but then turned away. The rest of dinner consisted of the Steward questioning Boromir about his studies, while Faramir did his best to remain unseen.  
  
"I'm glad to hear you're doing well, then," said Denethor finally, pushing his plate away. "You make me proud. It is amazing how much you can accomplish, and you are only eleven years old!" He smiled and gestured towards the door. "You may leave now, and have the rest of the night to yourself."  
  
"Thank you, Father," Boromir said with a grin. He jumped out of his chair and extended a hand to help Faramir down.  
  
"No, Boromir, he can do it himself," Denethor ordered. The older boy snatched his hand away and watched helplessly as Faramir slid slowly off the large chair. He was very slight and small for his age, and Boromir prayed that he did not fall and hurt himself. Denthor fixed his younger son with a sharp glare and frowned once more. "You are spending too much time with him, Boromir. He must learn to do things for himself, and you must not be bothered with him. He is an annoyance to you, one that cannot distract you from your studies."  
  
"But Father, I enjoy spending time with Faramir," Boromir argued. His brother's face was suddenly very pale, but he knew better than to show any fear.  
  
"I know, and that is what bothers me." Denethor paused for a moment and then nodded. "Starting tomorrow, Faramir will begin his studies, and you will not see each other except for supper. The rest of the day will be spent concentrating on your own learning, not the well being of your sibling."  
  
"Father, he is only six!" Boromir cried. "He cannot sit and study all day, and he needs me to be his friend!"  
  
"He will learn to sit, and he is using you as a crutch, not a friend. It is time the boy grew up. Do not argue with me Boromir, for someday, when you have your own children, you will see the wisdom of my judgment." Denethor sat back, looking well pleased with himself.  
  
Boromir felt his face flush red. "No, I will never understand, because I will never have my own children! I will do whatever I wish, and I will do it with Faramir, and you will not be able to stop us!" he yelled. Then, a single tear in his eye he turned and quickly exited the room.  
  
Denethor's jaw had dropped, leaving him with an oddly stunned expression. After a moment, he clenched his teeth and turned his attention to the young boy standing in the hall beside him. His eyes were filled with anger as he turned and said, very slowly and sharply, "You even turn my son from me! Must you take away everything I love?"  
  
Faramir, his eyes shining with unshed tears, turned and fled the room, looking for some way to escape the terror that no six year old should find in their parent.  
  
*****************************************  
  
Eowyn was silent. She had not taken her eyes from mine as I related the incident, but now they were gleaming. I raised one hand and gently stroked her face. She looked so lovely sitting there in her white bedclothes. why had I ever disturbed her?  
  
"I am sorry, Faramir," she said finally. "I didn't know that. I couldn't imagine."  
  
"It is not a pleasant feeling, to find yourself in a hard situation such as that as a small child. But it was not the first, and it was not the last." My voice dropped low, and I added, "There will be no end."  
  
"It is over now, Faramir, there is an end," Eowyn whispered, tangling her fingers in my hair.  
  
"No, my love, there isn't. If there was an end, I wouldn't be here, afraid to even speak about him. I believe he will haunt me forever." That was my deepest fear, that the memory of my father would linger with me until the day I died, casting a dark shadow on every new experience. I shivered again and reached out to draw Eowyn against my chest. She was warm and comforting, and suddenly, I felt somewhat better, more hopeful.  
  
"No, Faramir, not forever. We will be free of him one day, I promise," she whispered lightly, resting her forehead on mine. "And I always keep my promises."  
  
As we laid back down and she snuggled up against me underneath the soft comforter, I had the reassuring feeling that she was not lying. 


	6. More Than Enough

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. See previous chapters if you really care.  
  
Note: Yay! Another Chapter! I hope you enjoy this one, but I have one comment to make, seeing as how someone mentioned it before. I described Faramir as having lighter, reddish hair, and do so again here. I'm sorry if that is a huge problem, but I have such a hard time picturing him dark haired, and I find I write better if I can actually see it in my mind. So, please accept my humble apologies and try to enjoy the story anyway!  
  
Chapter Six- More Than Enough  
  
The servant girl must have thought I had gone mad.  
  
Faramir had gone out riding with some of his men earlier and would not be back until later. The household virtually empty of all males, the servant girls and I threw ourselves into the daunting task of cleaning the entire estate. The house in Emyn Arnen was quite large, a home fitting for the Prince of Ithilien, and though the servants worked fastidiously, there was always more to do, people to take care of. With the men out of the way, we saw our golden opportunity.  
  
I had never been particularly concerned with cleanliness until I fell in love with Faramir. He was neat to the point of obsessiveness, and it did not take long for his habits to wear off on me. It was only with mop and bucket in hand, unruly hair tied up in a knot, wearing an old and fraying gown, did I realize that I was now as bad, if not worse, than my dear husband. With a delightfully resigned sigh, I set to work scrubbing out my bath chambers.  
  
It was then that I noticed the blood. My dress was stained a little, and I knew that it could only be from one thing. My monthly courses had come. It was then that I started to scream.  
  
One of the servant girls, Bella, had been cleaning the bedroom when I started and had hurriedly rushed to me. "My Lady? My Lady! It's only your courses!"  
  
"The healer!!! The healer- NOW!" I screamed as loud as I could. I was distraught! I was in anguish! Above it all, I was not pregnant!  
  
I had tried for a year now, one long and hopeful year, to conceive, but so far, little had come of my attempts. Faramir had not mentioned it, but as the months wore on, I could see he was getting anxious, as was I. Dark thoughts began to stir in my brain, and I began to think that I was ill or barren. Surely, there could be nothing worse than for a nobleman to wed an infertile woman!  
  
It was not only for my husband's lineage that I tried so desperately to conceive. It was also for his well being. He had begun to tell me snippets of stories of his childhood, and few were filled with much joy. He treaded lightly upon the subject of his father, spoke kindly of his brother, and said nothing of his mother at all. Then, one deep night while a storm raged outside our window, he clung to me and confessed his deepest fears. It had seemed so surreal, the lightning flashing and thunder crackling as he sobbed and spoke to me. I had listened with the utmost compassion and curiosity. For hours, he went on, rambling sometimes about things I did not understand, other times actually conversing with me. Finally, as the storm began to calm, he pressed his lips to my ear and whispered, "Sometimes I wish for a son to raise as my own, so I can show the world that Denethor cannot harm me, cannot ruin my family. It would be wonderful to produce something beautiful and lovely, to be able to actually love something I create. I would not make any child of mine feel as I did for all those years, for to me, they will all be perfect."  
  
And so it was that I discovered that Faramir yearned for a child. I knew in my heart that he would be a wonderful father, and I had told him that night how perfect his children would be. The next morning he did not speak of our conversation except to tell me, "Eowyn, do not be in a hurry to bear a child to a man who craves one for selfish reasons."  
  
"It is not selfish, Faramir. You said it yourself, that you wish to have someone to love and to look upon as perfect. You want only to provide some of the love that you long kept hidden and secret. It is in you, my dear, to be a true and caring father, one whom all children wish for, the most perfect of all parents."  
  
He kissed me softly then, and took me to bed, and the next month I was not visited by my courses. But now, here they were again, and I was in shock. I had felt sure, so very sure that I was carrying a child at last, but now I felt strangely empty and useless.  
  
The servant Bella sent for the healer and then helped me into bed. She was very nervous and sat in a chair and held my hand for a while. Finally, with a sigh, I said, "Bella, dear, you can sit on the bed with me if you'd like."  
  
She looked stunned for a moment, then shook her head forcefully. "No, milady, it's not proper for anyone to be on the bed except the lord and his wife. It's Gondorian tradition."  
  
"To hell with tradition! Do you think I care for it? I try to be kind and you. you. Oh Bella, I don't even know!" With another sob I turned onto my side. After a moment, I felt Bella softly lower herself on the bed and stroke my hair.  
  
"It's alright, Lady Eowyn. It will be okay, whatever your problem is. I hear old Rhean coming now."  
  
The door slammed open and I could hear a furiously loud voice cry, "Bella, you fool, get off the bed this instant!"  
  
I felt her start to slink off, but I turned towards her and grasped her hand. "No, Rhean, I asked her to sit with me. She is my comfort for the moment."  
  
Rhean was a wise elderly woman, far older than I could have guessed, but still active and willing to argue. However, for the moment she relented, and sighed.  
  
"What is it, Lady, that drove you into such hysterics as I heard you to be in?" she asked, settling into a chair beside me.  
  
"My courses, Rhean. I did not have them last month and I was hoping not to have them again for quite a while." I looked up into the old woman's eyes and sighed. "I had hoped."  
  
"I know what it is you hoped for, but apparently you did not get you wish," she answered, not unkindly. "Indeed, I have wondered why you have not come to me before with concerns about this."  
  
"Am I barren, then? Can you tell?" I asked anxiously, gripping Bella's slight hand in my own.  
  
"Nay, you do not have the look of a barren woman. Usually I can tell when that's the case. But in your situation, milady, I do not think that you are entirely at fault."  
  
I sat up, startled at the implication. "You dare to say such things about the Prince while he is away? You have no proof, Rhean, and you should not jump to such hasty conclusions!"  
  
Rhean chuckled and leaned back. "I didn't say it was his fault. In fact, if I'm right, the fault lies with neither of you. If you remember correctly, Lady Eowyn, you both were under the influence of the Black Breath, something that one does not easily survive. I believe that some of its effects are still upon you. Do you recall last winter how you and the Prince were the only ones in the entire household who were ill? You both are still weak, though you are childish enough to think yourselves fully recovered."  
  
A new fear struck me. What if this were true? Then there would be no hope for either of us! "Rhean, you are saying that I shall never bear children?" My voice shook, much to my dismay.  
  
Again she laughed. "No, my pet, I think that you will be able to, in time. Think of this as a lingering illness. You are still youthful enough to recover, both of you, and in time we shall see little Eowyns and Faramirs gracing the halls of the court."  
  
"You are sure, then?" I said doubtfully. I felt silly, placing all my hopes on the perceptions of a rambling old woman. Still, there was something so. indescribable about her, a kind of nobility. I wondered for a moment if she was a far off relation of the elves, with her seemingly unending life and extended healing knowledge.  
  
"Nothing is for certain, but we old ladies feel things in our bones," Rhean said with a smile.  
  
"Like when you predict storms," Bella said, laughing. "And I expect any children of our Lord and Lady would be noisy as thunder!" She turned to me to smile. "We servants always love to see the two of you in one of your little scuffles, about one little thing or another!"  
  
"Yes, it's true, Lady Eowyn, you make Lord Faramir happier than I've ever seen him. I wonder what would have become of him if you hadn't arrived, what, after his father." Rhean pursed her lips together. "Pay no heed to that. What I say outside of the healing arts is of little importance. You just lay in bed and rest a while, and Bella and I will make sure the rest of the women keep to their tasks."  
  
I didn't protest. I was rather glad to turn over and take a little nap. Bella and Rhean stayed with me until they though I was asleep. In fact, I was until Bella asked, "What do you think would have happened if Lady Eowyn had never come to Gondor?"  
  
I found myself anxious to hear Rhean's response, but it was long in coming. Finally, she said, "Then, Bella dear, I don't believe that there would be a house in Emyn Arnen, or even a steward, for that matter. Just be thankful Lord Faramir met the lady when he did."  
  
Most of Rhean's predictions had come true in the few years I had lived here. As much as I wished her beliefs about my children were accurate, I found myself fervently wishing her thought on Faramir was not.  
  
-----------------------------------------------  
  
The sun was setting when I woke. I felt almost angry at myself for sleeping so long, but I felt much more relaxed. There was a small noise, a rustle of paper. I opened my eyes ever so slowly and looked around.  
  
Faramir had come home and was sitting in a large chair across the room, immersed in a book. He sat perfectly still, as he always did while reading, his legs crossed, a pair of small spectacles resting on his nose. I took the time to admire him. The last rays of the sun were hitting him so that his hair glowed almost fiery red. His lips curved upward in a small smile of satisfaction. He seemed angelic, powerful, and strangely peaceful.  
  
I watched him for quite a while, until his eyes closed and his breathing became deep and even. Only when the book fell unheeded to the floor did I stand and walk towards him. He did not stir as I set his reading glasses on the table beside him and brushed back his hair. The little candle next to him cast a soft glow on his face, and again I admired his handsome features. I sunk to the floor next to him and put my head in his lap. With a sigh I took his hand and stroked it softly. It felt so right to sit there with him, to just exist.  
  
Presently, he stirred and was rather surprised by me sitting there with my head still in his lap. "Eowyn, what are you doing? Rhean told me you were ill and should not be out of bed until tomorrow."  
  
"I am not so far from the bed that I exerted myself getting here." I not did raise my head to look at him, nor even open my eyes. I was still trying to hold on to the peaceful moments I had just shared with him, whether he was aware of it or not.  
  
"Well, I would not have you go too far, or else Rhean would have my head," Faramir said with soft laughter in his voice. Somehow he managed to lean over and scoop me into his arms. He stood and held me tightly to him. I took a deep breath and buried myself in his chest.  
  
"I missed you today, my love. I could not help but notice how lovely you looked sitting there reading. I'm surprised that you were a bachelor as long as you were," I said sleepily, trying to fill my head with the scent of him.  
  
"I was waiting for the perfect woman. You are my dream come true, Eowyn, something impossible brought to life."  
  
He laid me upon the bed and I crawled back under the comforter. I watched as he changed into his night clothes. As he took off his tunic I found myself giggling.  
  
"What's so funny?" he said, raising and eyebrow at me.  
  
"You fold your dirty clothes before putting them in the basket! I never noticed that before!"  
  
He smiled and finished undressing. "Yes, love, I do silly things like that," he said with a smile. "Will you forgive me?"  
  
"No, never," I said jokingly. "Come to bed, love, I'd like to curl up with you."  
  
"And maybe a bit more?" he asked, a hopeful look coming to his face.  
  
"I started my courses today, love, so that's up to you," I said, pulling the covers up to my chin.  
  
A look of slight disgust came over his face. "Oh. well then, so much for that idea." He paused and tilted his head. "I thought you were pregnant."  
  
I sat up straight in an instant. "Where did you get that idea?" I asked anxiously. What had the servants been telling him? Was there some rumor going around I wasn't aware of?  
  
"You didn't have your courses last month. I assumed." He sighed and pulled on his bed shirt. "It isn't very safe to assume, I suppose."  
  
"I'm sorry, Faramir. I thought that, too. I was hoping, really I was, but. Rhean says the effects of the Black Breath are still making us weak. That's why we got sick so much last winter, remember? She says that it will pass soon enough, and when it does, I shall give you all the children you could hope for!"  
  
Faramir sat on the bed beside me and held my hand. "You do not have to rush into that, love. This isn't your obligation, and I would love you even if we have no children at all."  
  
"Oh, but I'd love to have a baby of our own, Faramir. He would look just like you, and be the most beautiful child ever born," I said, squeezing his hand as tightly as I could.  
  
"In due time, love," he said softly, blowing out the single candle left burning in the room. "For now, would it be enough to have me here for you to curl up against?"  
  
As he sunk into the bed, I moved closer to him and kissed him deeply. "Always, love, you will always be more than enough for me!" 


	7. War Wounds

Disclaimer: See previous chapters  
  
Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. I had a bit of a rough patch and by the time I figured out where to go next, my computer decided to die. So, here's my latest effort. Enjoy and review- pretty please? With anything you want on top?  
  
Chapter Seven- War Wounds  
  
When I was nineteen, I received my first battle wound. It was a knife cut, delivered by an Easterling, and it was not something I would easily forget. The wound, like the knife itself, was long, twisted and cruel, laced with a burning anger. I remember the moment he slashed me, how I was filled with such a terrible fear, how I fell to the ground at his utter mercy. Had some stray arrow not taken him down, I would have died during my first skirmish.  
  
There was no one looking out for me, no one sworn to protect me. I was on my own in a strange company, surrounded by men that didn't even know I was Denethor's son. They didn't take much notice of me for good or ill, and had I died, it would have been an event of no great sorrow for them. I did not even have my first comrade until he found me after the battle, half buried beneath the Easterling's carcass.  
  
"What's this? Are you yet alive down there?" he called. He bent over me, a look of childish anxiousness on his features. I knew his name was Anborn, but little more than that. I doubt if he knew my name at all, even the false one I served under for that first year. Still, it was with great care that he threw the body off me and carried my limp form to the camp healers.  
  
For a day, I lay in the dirty camp as some devilish fever worked in my veins. I was only half-conscious and I remember little, save that Anborn offered to carry me to Minas Tirith. The healer, whom I had known as a child, recognized me and ordered me back to the Houses of Healing. I don't remember much after that, save that I woke up a week later to my brother's face.  
  
"Gods, little brother, you certainly didn't go about getting yourself accustomed to wounds in any easy manner!" he quipped, after tenderly embracing me. My entire left side was done up in bandages and was very sore. "That would have had a lesser man dead!"  
  
"I would have been, had not some stray arrow saved me. I did not kill my enemy, merely collapsed under him like some common soldier." I cast my eyes down. "You would not have even flinched."  
  
Boromir sighed and lightly punched my shoulder. "I would have fallen down and cried for Mother. You underestimate what was inflicted upon you."  
  
"A scratch," I muttered.  
  
"Well, Fari, if that is a scratch, I will hate to see you get a real wound!" Boromir laughed and leaned back in his chair. He was a sturdy, handsome man of twenty four, and a good man at that. He was Gondor's darling, perfect in every way. And I was simply the leftovers.  
  
"Has Father been to see me?" I asked, hoping to sound as casual as I could.  
  
To my utter surprise, Boromir nodded. "Of course, every day. Fari, that is another fault with you- you think too much of your faults! Father does not despise you any more than he does me. You are his son, and it doesn't matter if you came first or last in a series of twenty! You are still his child, and what man could hate his own children?"  
  
I felt a little better after that. Indeed, Boromir was right. Denethor came to see me soon after my brother left, and, to my surprise, was actually friendly.  
  
"Does it hurt much?" was his first question. After I shook my head, he smiled and sat down. "Good, good, I will not stand to see you in any discomfort." Yet that was how he looked, squirming in his chair. "You are, um, rested, then?"  
  
"Yes, Father, everything is well. The Healers do their job." I hesitated a moment. "Is there something you would ask of me?"  
  
He looked taken aback for a minute, but then he relaxed. He suddenly looked old and vulnerable. It made me want to weep. This was not the Steward of Gondor- this was a man who had almost lost his son.  
  
"No, I would just like to see that you are well. Boromir said you underestimated your wound, and you do! It is very grievous, and for a while, we feared for your life. It was poisoned, the blade, and..." He sighed and shook his head. "I am thankful that you are alive, my son. And I am sorry that I sent you to combat with no one to protect you. You could have died, and the blame could have been placed at my feet!"  
  
"No, never!" I said, shocked by this expression. "I had to learn for myself! I was like any other soldier, and would have died had I not been lucky! I must learn to do better, to protect myself!"  
  
Denethor sighed and shook his head. "Faramir, Boromir once told me you drive yourself to the point of excellence trying to impress me. Do not try, for you already do so."  
  
"But I must continue! I will not fail you! I will be a remarkable son!" I said, a few stray tears gathering in my eyes.  
  
"But you are, Faramir, truly, you are!" Father exclaimed before gathering me into a hug. Though he hurt my side, I did not complain, for this was too rare of an occasion. Things could only get better from there, I thought. The bitterness between us was over.  
  
All this I recounted to Eowyn as I was getting dressed one morning. She had lightly traced the scar on my left side, faded and white, and inquired of its origins. I spoke a little more of Father then I wanted to, but it had been okay. That had been one of the better moments between us, and caused little pain.  
  
"You have had so many wounds Faramir, so many, so young!" she exclaimed. "I did not expect the son of a Steward to be so marked."  
  
"Does it make me all that unattractive?" I asked, a small pout on my lips. "Do you reject me now, seeing me as a scarred and hideous beast?"  
  
She laughed, the sound of happiness, hers as well as mine. "I have been married to you a little over three years now. I do not care if you are scarred, and if I did, I would have mentioned it then! You are beautiful to me, always!"  
  
"As you are to me," I said softly, cupping her cheek in my hand. In a lighter tone, I added, "As I'm sure some other little person will be to me as well!" My hand strayed over her recently swollen belly and she laughed.  
  
"How can one be beautiful when they kick so much! I would think it would wear him out as much as he moves," she said, giggling.  
  
"He is truly his mother's son. You are sure it is a boy, then?" I asked quietly.  
  
"I cannot ever be sure, but I have high hopes and a mother's instincts. And do not worry if he is a she, for we can always make another one!"  
  
"Are you so sure of that, sweet? It took us long enough to conceive this one, and I fear the delivery may be hard for you, being so slight and all. Besides, even if it were a girl, I would love her no less."  
  
"A stunning father you will be," she said in a hushed voice as she kissed my forehead. "Now come, silly, you promised me a walk in the gardens an hour ago!"  
  
And so we went, hand in hand, down to our garden. We had planted the majority of it and the mountain plants flourished in the climate. It was a lovely sight to behold, and we often took strolls there together. I placed my hand on the small of Eowyn's back protectively and guided her. She sighed and placed her head on my shoulder.  
  
"I am not a weakling just because I am pregnant," she whispered to me.  
  
"I will not take any chances with you. I know how wild you can be, and you would still be horseback riding if you could!"  
  
She blushed and laughed a little. "I was bored, and it was merely a suggestion. How would I know that Rheis would react so negatively?"  
  
And so we continued our stroll, talking of mundane things that we took small pleasures in. I had come to love the world of simple things and cherished the hours spent with Eowyn talking of nothing too important. She had become the center of my universe that was the Emyn Arnen. My golden sun.  
  
Arms wrapped tightly around her, my head sank to her shoulder as we watched the sun climb into the sky. We exchanged a few chaste kisses, feeling obliged to do so with a baby around, even if it wasn't in the actual outside world yet. We sat down for a picnic lunch in the garden and were enjoying ourselves when I heard horses.  
  
"That's odd," I said quietly. "The patrols are back earlier than expected."  
  
"Perhaps they saw nothing and wished only to return home. Don't worry yourself Faramir, already your forehead is lined with wrinkles!"  
  
But I could not sit and listen to my wife's words. Within minutes, the captain of my guard, Beregond, came hurrying anxiously through the gardens. He bowed shyly and nervously. "I am sorry to interrupt, my lord and lady, but there is a problem in Northern Ithilien."  
  
Eowyn and I both started. "What kind of problem? Speak quickly, Beregond!" I urged, suddenly feeling tense.  
  
He bit his lip and met my eye. "A band of orcs, sir, almost three hundred, remnants of Mordor. They are lost in the Emyn Muil, but seem to be trying to head south. I left a band there to watch them, but I thought you might want to decide a course of action."  
  
"Indeed," I said softly. Since Elessar had taken up the throne, there had been a multitude of villages springing up in previously uninhabited parts of Gondor. Northern Ithilien was one of them. A roaming band of orcs was an extreme hazard to the citizens of those towns. I nodded and stood.  
  
"Very well then. We shall set out with our soldiers to stop them. Send word to Minas Tirith just in case, and then get the men ready. We shall gather our forces and head out to defeat them."  
  
Beregond nodded smartly and took his leave. I felt Eowyn grab at my tunic. "You will leave as well?" she asked sadly.  
  
"I wish I did not have to, especially with the baby being so near, but I have a duty to my people," I said, stroking her golden hair.  
  
"And you will see your duty done. Were I fit, I would go with you," she said with a faint smile. I was relieved that she understood duty and did not fight with me. How I loved such a strong woman!  
  
"And I would try to say no, to my utter failure. I must rally the men. I am sorry that this ruins our day, love."  
  
She met my eyes and kissed me, staring into me always. When she pulled away, she sighed. "Do what must be done, Lord and Prince of Ithilien."  
  
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The road was not too long, but I had not been on horseback in urgent need for some time. We rode hard, a company of five hundred men, racing towards the Emyn Muil. For two days we rode, seeing no signs that the orcs had advanced or even found their way out of the mountains. However, on the evening of the second day, we saw that they had indeed escaped the labyrinth like passages.  
  
The orcs had gotten out of the Emyn Muil, and Beregond's company had tried to stop them. The fifty or so men were vastly outnumbered, and all but a handful were scattered about a deserted valley, dead. The survivors were trapped in the middle of a huge circle. It filled my heart with a swell of pride to see them still fighting. I ordered the charge.  
  
I have never been a lover of battle. Some men love to kill their enemies; I dislike killing even a flower. Still, years of this had numbed me well enough, and with a calloused heart, I rode into the fray. The battle cries of the men were frightening, and a hundred of the orcs broke away and fled.  
  
"Beregond!" I shouted. "Follow them! Kill them!" He nodded, taking a few scores of men to finish off the enemy retreaters. As he rode away, the orcs did not see that he was going to finish off their comrades; they thought he was retreating. They attacked with fresh vigor, their malicious curved smiles everywhere.  
  
My men did me proud. They gave the awful things nothing to smile about. It was to my relief to see that our casualties were few so far. The battle was going well, if any battle can be thought of as going well if it occurs at all.  
  
It was then, in a moment of victory, that I felt the shove from behind. A huge orc, more beastlike than any I had previously seen, had launched itself at my horse. Terrified, she bucked, and I found myself flying to the ground. As soon as I hit the dirt I was on my feet again, my sword in hand. The beast came towards me, a deadly and wicked smile on its grimy lips.  
  
There was always a feeling of dread when I faced an enemy, but I quickly quelled my doubts. I had faced hundreds of orcs, and they had never gotten the best of me. We lunged at each other, my noble shining sword clashing with his dingy black club. I suddenly realized just how much bigger this enemy was than me, how much stronger. I felt fear, and I did not like it. I was tossed to the ground again, and the sharp pain in my back told me I had landed on something hard. Not waiting for the spasms to subside, I leapt up again, but not soon enough. The great dirty beast slashed at me with a lethal looking knife. Knocked and battered, I stumbled back as he lunged again. He was almost laughing now, a low and nasty rumbling in his throat.  
  
He stabbed, and hit his mark.  
  
I stumbled back, shocked, cradling my stomach. I had not expected him to strike so quickly and stealthily. This was all wrong. I was supposed to be at home with my wife, cradling a newborn son, watching the sunset. I was supposed to be tending my garden and reading in my study. I was supposed to be with my brother and father, fighting side by side for the country I loved.  
  
But I was nineteen again, and though this wound was in a different place, it was still as deadly. There was no one to protect me, no royal guard. I fell to my knees and slumped over as the beast hovered above me. It was too much to hope for another stray arrow. 


	8. Come What May

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! All Tolkien's!  
  
Author's Note: Sorry it's been so incredibly long since my last update. I've been so incredibly busy, and when I sat down to write, my computer kind of, um, exploded. So, basically, now that it's back in one piece, I can continue. Thanks for your patience! All your reviews help so much. And maybe, just maybe, I'll move a little faster next time if you review.... Pretty please? In any case, enjoy! This one, besides being stalled by computer troubles, was a bit difficult to write, so, I hope it turned out decently...  
  
Chapter Eight: Come What May  
  
"Rhean, move, now!" I demanded sharply, trying to push past the older woman. Still tough in her old age, she blocked the doorway with her stocky body. Her eyes caught mine momentarily, and I shuddered to see them filled with pleading.  
  
"Lady, you do not know... you cannot go in there!" she said, making sure to keep herself between the doorknob and my hand at all times. "The healers cannot be disturbed, and you would only get in the way!"  
  
"I'm a healer now too, or did you forget? You helped train me yourself! I can help, so MOVE!"  
  
Pushed and prodded, the ancient matriarch refused to budge. "Lady Eowyn, you do not want to go in there," she said warningly. Her voice was sharp, her features hard.  
  
"He's my husband, for God sakes, let me IN!" Despite my angry words, I felt helpless, trapped. Why couldn't I go in? What was the use of having a soldier, crying and upset, come to my chambers to inform me of Faramir's injuries if I couldn't even see him?  
  
"That's precisely why you can't go in, Lady, he's your husband. He's too badly wounded for you to be in there now. You'd get upset, get faint, and in your condition," she said, pointing at my swollen belly, "being anything less than comfortable would be bad for the child!"  
  
I threw back my hair and straightened my back, looking as haughty as I could. "I am a shieldmaiden of Rohan; I fear nothing! I will not swoon, nor will I panic. You will move now, Rhean, or I will have the guards do it for you!"  
  
She sighed and looked down at the ground, slumping a little. "He's very badly hurt, Lady, but if you insist, I must let you." She turned her eyes up to me again. They glimmered with tears, and for a moment, my resolve crumbled. I had never seen Rhean as anything but the paragon of strength, and it just now occurred to me how bad Faramir's condition could be.  
  
"Please, Rhean, I must see him. If I don't try to help, I will never forgive myself. I must do everything I can for him. It is as I said; I am a shieldmaiden, a daughter of kings, and I fear nothing. Please, come in with me, for we will need your skills."  
  
She nodded, defeated, and turned to the door. Hand on the doorknob, she turned back to me for a moment. "His abdomen has been pierced, and there has been profuse bleeding. He is suffering from fever, and he cries out for his wife, his brother, his father, and mostly, his mother. As we understand, he was often sick as an infant, so she would be the natural person to call for. Be prepared, Eowyn, not for your husband, but for a soldier, badly wounded and in dire need of aid."  
  
My throat was suddenly tight beyond all imagining, but I nodded. Of everyone he had asked for, I was all that was left. I could not fail him.  
  
Rhean pushed open the door, and suddenly the metallic odor of blood greeted me. My stomach turned and I gulped for air to keep my food down. A crowd of five healers was gathered around a bed, bent over their work, crying out instructions, working as quickly as they could. I stepped in, quietly, now hesitant and unsure of my decision. One woman turned to me and her mouth opened a little. "Lady Eowyn, we did not think it wise that you should be here..."  
  
"She's a strong girl, a good healer, and it's her duty as wife to care for her husband," Rhean snapped, slamming the door behind her. "How is he; has he changed?"  
  
"He is doing a bit better, but since he was doing so poorly in the first place, it does not mean much," the woman, who was named Merrlyn, replied. "He is losing less blood, and I believe his pulse is more steady, but there is little more we can do."  
  
"Every little bit helps, Merrlyn. We can reduce his fever, that'll help him more than anything now. Eowyn, get the herbs for the fever elixir... Eowyn?"  
  
Merrlyn had moved aside and I found that I could see Faramir's face clearly. It was whiter than my own, lacking the usual golden glow of health and joy. His hair was matted, sticky with sweat. His lips were parted a little, and they moved slightly.  
  
"He's talking; he's saying something!" I cried suddenly. "What is he trying to say? Rhean, what...?"  
  
"Fever mumblings, child, nothing more. He isn't awake, and that's probably a good thing with how much pain he'd be in." The ancient healer grabbed my face and turned it to face hers. "You told me you'd be helpful, and you wouldn't panic. Now get me the herbs for the fever elixir."  
  
I nodded dumbly, trying not to look over to the near- corpse that was my husband. My hands trembled as I reached for the kingsfoil; I forced them to stop. A sudden thought came to me, and I turned to Rhean.  
  
"The king, we should send for the king! If nothing we do helps, he'll be able to! He's already saved him from the Black Breath; he can save him from a wound!"  
  
Rhean nodded and touched my hand lightly. "They've thought of that, dear. As soon as the victory was won and they found the Prince like this, they sent someone to Minas Tirith in a hurry. It shouldn't be much longer before he arrives, if all goes well. We still need to help, Lady, so get that potion going!"  
  
Once again I nodded, gathering the herbs at lightning speed. My mind tried to stray, but I could not let it. What if the king didn't get here in time? Of course he would. What if he couldn't help? He's the king, he would save him, no worry. What if Faramir died? That thought, most of all, had to be suppressed, but it still gnawed at my mind with a fierce hunger.  
  
Once made, I tried to hand the elixir to Rhean, who was making a poultice beside me. She looked at me and sighed. "Take it to him, girl, maybe he'll know it's you and take it easier."  
  
My hands began to tremble and my stomach turned again, but I muttered "Yes," all the same. I turned away from my table and walked slowly towards Faramir.  
  
How lovely he had always seemed, even before I had allowed myself to fall in love with him. Even on his worst of days, he had a kind of glow that came from being kin to the highest race of men, and he always had a smile for me. His arms had always been strong and open, willing to hold and cherish. How I had found comfort in his eyes and in his embrace. Being close to him made me feel surrounded by some kind of shield of perfection, where nothing could harm us, not even time. And now, here he was, this beautiful creature wasted and wounded on a healer's bed. His arms looked weak, his eyes were shut tight, and his lips open as he silently mouthed names I could not discern. It was torture to stand there and see him, so close to death yet so close to me at the same time.  
  
I reached out and stroked his cheek. I ran one finger over his lips and smiled softly when he moved. His eyes fluttered open and caught mine. I gave out a little cry of surprise, and all the healers looked up at me. They followed my stunned gaze downward, and gave a collective gasp when they saw him staring back at me.  
  
"Eowyn..." he said softly, laboriously. His eyes darted frantically around my face, clouded with hurt. I remembered what Rhean had said about him being in pain, so I tilted his head so that he looked into my eyes.  
  
"Faramir, I need you to drink this, it will help the pain. Please, try to drink it," I said, keeping my voice steady as possible. It was of no use; it still wavered.  
  
He tilted his head against my cheek, and then looked back up at me, confused. "Mother...?" he said, trying to focus on my face.  
  
I raised the vial to his lips and tilted it back. He took the medicine without question, though he swallowed with what seemed like great difficulty. The room was silent, and the healers watched in awe. "Yes Faramir," I said quietly, tears threatening to break free and stream down my face. "Yes, I'm here."  
  
He smiled faintly, closing his eyes. Nuzzling his face against my hand, he let out a little sigh, and was quiet. The only sound in the room was that of his deep breaths. No one moved; no one spoke; no one took their eyes from the face of their beloved prince.  
  
Suddenly, the door was pushed open and we all whirled, shaken from the moment. Elessar was there, looking as if he had rushed out of council and had ridden here in his regalia. His eyes went immediately to Faramir's face.  
  
"Oh, great Steward and better friend, why has this tragedy befallen you?" he said, his voice filled with great sadness. He turned his eyes toward me, looking shocked. "Eowyn, perhaps you should not be here..."  
  
"She gave him medicine; she touched him and he woke up for a moment," Rhean said. "She has helped revive him, if only for a bit."  
  
Elessar kept his wide eyes on me. "He recognized you?" he inquired, sounding almost awed.  
  
"I... I'm not sure. He called me Eowyn at first, then thought I was his mother," I said, holding my voice steady for the king.  
  
"An understandable mistake. You look very much alike." Elessar took his eyes from me and focused on Faramir's wound. "Rhean, kingsfoil, and a hot blade to cauterize the wound. We will heal him yet."  
  
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It had been an hour past dusk when I entered Faramir's room; it was now dawn. Elessar had cleaned and closed the wound, and the fever had subsided. The king now offered to escort me to my rooms. I refused, intent on staying near Faramir, but then he gave me a stern look and ordered me there.  
  
"You are pregnant, Lady Eowyn, and while you may be capable of staying up all night and catching naps in a chair, your child needs a healthy, rested mother." I gave in, cradling my stomach gently, and giving Faramir one last tender stroke on the cheek. He had been given his own sickroom, overlooking a beautiful mountain vale. He was bandaged and tired looking, but better than when I had first seen him. Elessar turned away to lead me to my rooms and I gave my husband a quick kiss on the cheek before turning away, tears in my eyes.  
  
"You've shown remarkable strength, Eowyn. There are few wives who could have stood seeing their husbands in such awful conditions," Elessar said with a slight smile.  
  
"I could not have done nothing. He is my husband and I will care for him until I die." I thought a moment and added, "Which will be after him."  
  
Elessar gave me a slightly puzzled look. "Eowyn, he is of the Numenorean race. He will live longer than you by many years. You cannot hope to outlive him."  
  
"I do hope! I know I will, because I must! You heard him cry out, Elessar, you heard who he called for! His family- all dead! Must he have to live through my death too? Must he go on into old age knowing that there are none who still live to love him?"  
  
"His people will love him. And I believe, Eowyn, that it would hurt him more to die first. He is a strong man of both mind and body. He could not stand to leave you alone; he believes that he could handle the grief better. It is not because you are a woman that he believes that, but it is because he has suffered so much loss already."  
  
I gave the king a cold glare. "I have lost my mother, my father, my uncle, my cousin! I have lost as much as he has!"  
  
"And he knows that. He wishes you to suffer no more loss."  
  
"But I wish the same for him! This isn't fair, for one of us will have to win, and one will lose. There is no escaping it!" I stopped and turned my face away, tears of frustration in my eyes.  
  
"It isn't a matter of winning or losing. When it comes down to it, neither of you can decide. What use is there in talking about death when there is soon to be life?"  
  
I cradled my belly protectively. "Yes, life," I mused quietly. "If it weren't for you, he wouldn't have known a father. Thank you."  
  
"It's my duty as a king and friend. Had Faramir died, I would have been most grieved."  
  
I looked up at Elessar, a look of expectation stamped on my features. "Then he will live for certain?" I inquired.  
  
He nodded slowly. "I am almost positive of it. However, if it's no trouble, I would like to stay until he comes around and is doing better."  
  
"Of course, it is no problem at all. Rather, it is an honor. If you would like, you may send for the queen as well."  
  
Elessar gave a small smile. "I think I will do that, right after I finish walking you to your rooms. Speaking of which, I believe we have arrived there." He stopped in front of the heavy oak doors and grinned. "Thank you, Eowyn, for being such a marvelous help. Faramir drew strength from you; your presence helped him survive."  
  
"Thank you for knowing how to save him. I'm forever grateful to you." I turned and pushed open the door, then paused. "I... I don't know what I would have done, had he died."  
  
"Neither would I. Goodnight, Eowyn, or should I say, good morning." He gave a small bow and took off down the hall, his footsteps echoing for ages.  
  
A fire had been lit in the bedroom, and I warmed my hands near it gratefully. I moved to the bed and crawled under the covers. I lay on my back for what seemed like hours before my eyes felt heavy. Thoughts were spinning through my mind rapidly, about Faramir, about the baby, about my life. Suddenly, a memory popped into my head, something Faramir had said to me months ago.  
  
"Come what may, Eowyn, we're going to have the best lives we could have ever hoped for. No matter what happens, I'm going to love you, care for you, and build you a perfect life."  
  
"It has been perfect since the day you arrived in it," I had responded. "As long as you never leave, it will be all I could dream of."  
  
Tears on my cheeks and soaking the pillow I responded to him in my mind. Come what may, I was going to make sure he was never hurt again. Come what may. 


	9. Dearest Brother, How Have You Been?

Disclaimer: See other chapters.  
  
Author's Note: Did you like the last one? Yay, if you said yes! Here's hoping this one is good enough. It's a little abstract and odd- I think it turned out well enough though... Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated, and extremely helpful. Give me some feedback, people!  
  
Chapter Nine: Dearest Brother, How Have You Been?  
  
The sun was setting over the mountains in the east, throwing a dusky shadow over the garden. The flowers turned their faces toward the sun, trying to catch a few last rays that would have to sustain them through the night. The air was warm and fragrant, the scent of smell of rain heavy and sweet.  
  
I tapped my fingers nervously on the small wooden table in front of me and bit my lower lip. I wasn't quite sure how I had gotten from the battlefield to my garden in such short time; I figured I must have passed out and been brought home. With gentle fingers I touched my stomach to find it didn't hurt at all. I wondered which healer had saved me from any pain brought about by such a grievous wound. I took a deep breath and leaned back, waiting for Eowyn to come and join me on the patio. I looked at the mountains and let my eyes relax as I drifted into my own thoughts.  
  
"I wouldn't sleep yet, Faramir. This certainly isn't the time or place." I sat up straight in a hurry. The voice certainly hadn't been Eowyn's; it was male. It belonged to a speaker I had heard before, but I couldn't quite place a name or face. I became unnerved, because I usually had such a good memory for these things.  
  
"I'm not surprised you can't remember; it's been six years," came the voice again, somewhere behind the rose bushes to my left. "Still, I had hoped you would know..."  
  
"Who are you?" I demanded in a sharp voice, slightly trembling. This man, whoever he was, had read my mind, and I did not like that feeling at all. "Show yourself, or I'll call the guards," I called out, a little more assured. Who would play games with the Prince of Ithilien?  
  
"Why, Fara, I always loved to play games with you, prince or no prince." There was a rustling of leaves and the mysterious speaker appeared. "Would you ever have expected me to stop?" He sat down at the table and smiled his familiar grin.  
  
Boromir, handsome and confident as he had always been, was sitting across from me. My mouth dropped, my eyes opened wide, and I sat perfectly still. Had I gone mad?  
  
He shook his head and laughed. "No, Fara, you have not gone mad at all. It's me, your beloved brother, here to talk to you," he said, using the pet name for me no one else had ever been aware of.  
  
"It can't be," I said stubbornly. "You died. Six years ago, you died trying to save Merry and Pippin! The orcs killed you! Elessar sent you out to sea himself!" My voice was frantic and I slid my chair back from the table.  
  
"I wouldn't go anywhere, little brother. We're here for a reason, so it probably wouldn't be a good idea for you to up and leave." He reached out and grabbed my forearm. His hand was warm and calloused, just as it had always been.  
  
I could do nothing but stare and stammer, "Y- You're dead. You died..."  
  
"Yes, Faramir, I'm quite aware of the fact," he said, a touch of annoyance in his tone. "Can we move on now?"  
  
"No!" I snapped, wrenching my arm away. "If you're dead, then I must be too, or else I wouldn't be seeing you. And if I'm dead, this isn't the most natural thing in the world to experience. I may not have been horribly optimistic about life before, Boromir, but I have a family now. I have a pregnant wife, and right now, that's what I, as a corpse, need to come to terms with!"  
  
To my annoyance, he burst out into laughter. "Still the same old morbid sense of humor. Always joking about death, even when you're near it. Yes, near it, Fara, you're not dead yet. I'm here to try to send you back."  
  
My head was spinning. I wasn't dead, yet I was sitting in the afterworld version of my home across from my deceased brother. It was certainly enough to make one ill. I stared up at him and managed to croak, "What?"  
  
Boromir smiled wider and rested his large hand on my own. I had forgotten just how large and sturdy of a man he was, and how diminutive I had always seemed compared to him. It suddenly occurred to me that I had forgotten many things about my brother, including his voice, his smell, his air of presumptuousness. The only thing I really remembered was his smile and his comforting nature.  
  
"I know about Eowyn, Fara, and about your son too. I know how you're Prince of Ithilien and friends with the King of Gondor himself. I know everything about your new life, little brother."  
  
I hung my head and focused on the table. "You know about father, then?"  
  
His grip on my hand tightened. "I saw what happened, yes," he said rather tersely.  
  
"Did you greet him to the Land of Death as well, then? Was it Mother who came for you?" I asked these questions rather angrily. Boromir seemed to be in as good as spirits as ever. He had not lived through the torment of his father's suicide; he had gone to somewhere where he could sit and watch, safe and secure. "Is my life entertainment for you?" I added sharply.  
  
"Faramir, you should not be asking these things. You have little time..."  
  
"I don't care! I want to know! Tell me why you were allowed to escape, for my life was living hell after you left! You believed Father disdained me before; well it was multiplied by the thousands after your death! I would have died if it were not for unhappy chance! Tell me why you are always given the best lot in life!" My voice was shaking with pent up rage, my nails digging into the table.  
  
"Was it the best lot, then, to die before my life was fulfilled? Would you rather have died than met Eowyn?" His voice was soft, cajoling, and as persuasive as ever.  
  
"I have no life other than her now; she is my only reason for everything." I stared up at him, my eyes hard. "I suppose it is because of her that I must now fight for my life."  
  
Boromir's eyes were sad and wide. "Always, Fara, you were so hopeless. You did not live for yourself, for you saw nothing in your own life. You lived to protect your people, and now you live to provide for your wife. Can't you see that this must stop?"  
  
"It is so very hard when I was made to believe my only reason for living was to protect my people. At least you were required to get married and produce an heir. I didn't even have that option."  
  
"Your pessimism is most annoying, little brother."  
  
"Your arrogance is worse," I replied with a sigh. "I did not mean to yell, Boromir. I have missed you more than you could imagine, but to see you here so happy and carefree, while I still bear the weight of my life upon me, is more than I can take. Tell me of Mother and Father."  
  
"Faramir, you must understand that your body is getting weaker as your soul lingers in this halfway place. It is not your time to die; you must return."  
  
"I will know about my parents, Boromir."  
  
He sighed and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Very well, you stubborn brat." He smiled, and so relieved was I to hear his joking that I grinned as well. "That's the brother I like to see. You were always so much more handsome when you smiled."  
  
"Somehow compliments from a cadaver do not seem as powerful. Go on, if time is as short as you say." We exchanged glances and laughed. I felt lighter almost, relieved. It was like the way we used to be before he went to Rivendale because of my fateful dreams.  
  
He raised an eyebrow and chewed the inside of his cheek as he always did. "It wasn't your fault I was sent to Rivendale, Fara. It was the way fate worked. Do not blame yourself for everything. Mother would have died if you had not been born, and then Father would have just held his grudge against me. I am sorry you had to bare those burdens, but I believe you are the stronger for it." He sighed and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "It was Mother who greeted me. She was more beautiful than I ever remembered seeing her. She smelled like the sea and was barefoot. I imagine that's how she was before she came to Minas Tirith, free and uninhibited. In any case, we speak together often. She watched over us with concern for many years, and still does look after you. It hurts her to see you in so much constant despair; really, Fara, you must stop being so hopeless. She always tells me how she loves to see you smile; she cried tears of joy when you were married. I can't tell you how much she loves Eowyn; she sees the delight the girl brings to you."  
  
"Eowyn has meant much to me, nearly everything, indeed," I replied. "What of Father?"  
  
"His soul has been in almost constant torment. He watches over you as well, sitting next to me and Mother, but he cannot bring himself to speak to us. He only smiles when you smile; when you are distraught, he curses himself and watches with a heavy heart. He is not an evil man, Fara, you know that. His bitterness over Mother's death was most conveniently directed at you; he sees his error now. He has said only one thing directly to me; 'I ruined his spirit, but I know I cannot have ruined his heart.' He has faith that you will become a truly happy man, despite how he had wronged you. Always he wishes for you to be happy, but I can see he will never expect forgiveness."  
  
"And he shan't get any for a while yet,' I replied. "Deep in my heart, I wished for him to suffer, yet now that I know of his pain, it hurts me to have brought it upon him. No, he is not evil, but I cannot yet forgive him. But Boromir, how are you?"  
  
"No, brother, no more time for small talk. We will have all the time in the world later, but for now, you must get back to Middle Earth."  
  
I frowned and pleaded with my eyes. "These past six years I have desired to speak to you, Boromir. I remember that the last thing I said to you was, 'Enjoy your trip.' That is not the last thing I wished you to hear, and it has bothered me that I didn't really say goodbye."  
  
He shook his head, his smile gone from his lips and eyes. "I have also longed to speak to you, but I know that I will have to wait. You must go back, Fara, your wife and your son and your country need you. Your life needs you, Faramir; it has waited forty years for you to live it. I am here to give you the strength to return, but also to return a new man. You cannot go through life angst- ridden and melancholy. Your family wants better for you. Do you know how much it pains Eowyn that you still will tell her so little of your childhood?"  
  
"It has been difficult to deal with," I responded quietly.  
  
"You are not dealing with it alone, Faramir. If you would talk to me, I will be there to listen, even if I cannot respond. Mother and Father wish the best for you as well. Do not forget that you have a wife who loves you and who is willing to do anything for you. You are both wild and free in spirit; you get that from Mother. Travel, see Middle Earth. Teach your son to be a good man, and a good Gondorian. In time he will have a sister as well."  
  
"A sister?" I asked incredulously. "The Steward's line has always been ridiculously devoid of female children."  
  
"Yes, but the House of Hurin has never intermingled with the noble blood of Rohan. Your children are destined for great things, Faramir. Do not abandon the son; don't allow the girl to never be born."  
  
"You can see all this, Boromir? Can you see what will happen to me?" I asked, my natural curiosity making itself known.  
  
"Now, now, little brother, I can't tell you everything, can I? Can you not be content with the fact that you have a good life ahead of you?"  
  
"You know I cannot, Boromir. If I were satisfied, then I truly would have changed."  
  
We laughed together again, but this time it was bittersweet. My time was very short now; I felt anxious to return to my wife. "You'll be leaving now," Boromir said. "I think that you have resolved some issues you may have had."  
  
"I would have liked to stay and talk, but I suppose I have a life to live," I said with a smile. "Thank you, brother, for helping me find the strength to return."  
  
"You're welcome, Fara. It was good to talk to you once more at least. It will be many years before I see you again."  
  
"I will think of you, brother. Tell Mother I love her. Tell Father..." I hesitated. "Tell Father I know he is sorry."  
  
"I believe that they have already heard you," Boromir said, his smile sad now. "Goodbye, little brother."  
  
I smiled and clasped his hand once more. "Goodbye, Boromir, we will meet again." I pushed back my chair and stood.  
  
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My eyes fluttered open slowly. With a deep breath, I turned my head to take in my surroundings. I was in a large sickroom with a wonderful view of a mountain valley. I smiled; Eowyn must have specifically picked it out for me.  
  
"My good Steward, awake at last!" came a calm yet warm voice. I turned my head the other way to see King Elessar in a large plush chair beside my bed. His smile was wide and relieved. "Finally ready to wake up, I see."  
  
"My Lord Elessar," I said, my own voice full and steady. "It is good to see you."  
  
"Indeed, it is good to see you awake. We've been worried about you; you've been in that deep sleep for a week now. A few more days and we would have lost you for sure."  
  
"Yes," I murmured, thinking of Boromir. Had it been a dream, or had I actually been on the edge of death? I tried to sit up, but felt an acute pain shoot through my stomach.  
  
"I wouldn't try to rise just yet," Elessar advised. He leaned over to help position some pillows so I was in a more upright yet comfortable position.  
  
"What of the orcs?" I inquired, trying to stretch my sore limbs.  
  
"Destroyed, all of them. Your company was very well trained. Forty men died; a service was held for them two days ago, and they were buried in a nearby valley. I made sure each of them was given the proper respects."  
  
"Thank you, Lord Elessar. I am sorry to have been a bother, and useless, at that."  
  
He laughed and patted my arm. "It wasn't your fault you couldn't take care of that. You had your hands full battling for your life. It was an awful wound; when I heard of it I ran right out of a council meeting to attend to you."  
  
"Thank you, Lord. Without you, I would have died." I looked around once more. "Where is Eowyn?" I finally inquired.  
  
He smiled strangely. "Oh, down the hall," he said lightly, his lips curving most oddly.  
  
"If it isn't much of a bother, could you send for her please?"  
  
"I'm afraid that would be a bad idea, my Steward. The Lady Eowyn went into labor almost two hours ago. She could not wait for you any longer."  
  
A look of astonishment crept over my features, quickly followed by one of pure glee. Elessar laughed and smiled as well. "It would seem that you are being welcomed back in the most delightful of ways," he said, his laughter increasing at my grin.  
  
Look Mother, Father, dearest Brother, I thought joyously. I really will have a new life now! 


	10. A Brother and a Baby

Disclaimer: Standard  
  
Author's Note: Once again, I'm sorry this took so long. I was vacationing in Europe and when I got back, I was drowning in work. Finally, it's nice to get back to my story. I've missed it. Thanks to all who've reviewed, keep up the good work!  
  
Chapter Ten: A Brother and a Baby  
  
It was just a small whimper at first, but it grew louder and more insistent until it was a full blown cry for attention. I tried desperately to keep my eyes shut, but I knew it wasn't going to stop any time soon. With a sigh of annoyance, I swung my legs out of bed and went to the cradle for the fifth time that morning; that wasn't counting the three occasions I left my son's needs to Faramir, who moaned only a little less than the child. This time, the sun was crawling up over the hills, and my husband had already locked himself in the bathroom with a steaming tub.  
  
My weariness was somewhat forgotten as I reached into the cradle and lifted my son into my arms. Dearest Elboron, heir to the Stewardship of Gondor and, until my brother Eomer found a wife, heir to the throne of Rohan. At the time though, he looked to be no more than a squalling baby, only nine months into his life. As I cuddled him, I thought nothing of his lineage, his position, his place in the world. I could only shush him for a few moments until he stopped his wailing and fell back to sleep. Even then, as I sat on the edge of my bed and smiled at him, I couldn't put his tiny body back down; he seemed to adhere to my embrace, as if he could never leave, despite the world's protests.  
  
The bathroom door gave a little creak as it opened. Faramir was light on his feet, but I could here the soft steps as he approached me and sat at my side. He wore only his bathrobe; his hair was dripping wet. I did not have to look at him to know he was smiling.  
  
"What does the little brat want this time?" he inquired, his voice ripe with affection. He stroked Elboron's silky cheek with one rough finger and bent over me to get a better look at him. A drop of water fell in a shimmering bead from his hair to the baby's face, and Elboron set up a howl once more.  
  
He jumped back, somewhat alarmed, and I could do nothing but laugh. "All that hard work, Faramir, and you drip on him! What child wants to be dripped on by an uncouth brute of a father?" I rocked the baby gently, attempting in vain to sooth his cries.  
  
"Well, who wants to be squeezed to death by an overbearing mother? Here, let me have him for a moment." With all of his characteristic stealth, he stole little Elboron from my grasp. Cradling him, he stood up and backed away, then lifted his head to smile triumphantly at me. As he did so, his hair sent what must have seemed like a torrential downpour upon the child's face. The triumphant look vanished, followed by one of confusion and hesitancy.  
  
"There, Elboron, don't cry. I saved you from your mother, it's all better now." The cries did not cease. "Shh, relax, it's only a little water," he added hurriedly, wiping rivulets from the baby's cheeks. "It's just liking taking a bath."  
  
"He hates taking baths, Faramir," I reminded him, a smirk on my face. He shot me a venomous look and continued to rock Elboron, gently at first, but he seemed to grow more frantic by the second. When he was nearly ready to join his son in tears of frustration, I laughed and went to him, scooping the baby away. I rocked him for a moment or so before he quieted down. Now it was my turn to give a triumphant grin.  
  
Faramir had regained his composure and stood up tall, crossing his arms. "He'll only like you better until you stop feeding him. What man doesn't appreciate the cook?" I reached out to whack him on the shoulder but he stepped back and laughed. He stopped as I put the baby back in the cradle and turned to him. "Oh, love, I was joking, you can cook wonderfully, he'll love you forever!" he said with a grin as I tried to come at him. With a little growl I pounced at him and we fell back onto the bed, laughing and scuffling. After a few moments we lay still, me resting my head over his heart, his arms drawing me closer protectively.  
  
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" I asked softly, moving my head a little so I could look up at him.  
  
"Eowyn, wounds heal. Not everything you do has a potential of killing me, no matter how hard you try. I'm going to be here, like it or not. Speaking of wounds..." He tried to sit up and I crawled off of him reluctantly to let him. "Eowyn, the healing balm. You have to stop taking it just so you can put it on me instead of letting me do it myself!"  
  
With a sigh, I reached into a dresser drawer by my bedside and withdrew a little jar of cream. "I wish you'd let me put it on so I could see how it's healing."  
  
"Oh stop worrying, it's only a nice shade of purple. Joking!" he added, seeing my distressed face.  
  
"Why won't you let me see?" I asked, withholding the jar from his outreaching hand.  
  
"Why is it so important to you? It was wound, now it's a healing wound, and in a few weeks, it will be a scar. Fine," he finally said, exasperated. He pulled apart his bathrobe a little so I could see his cut. It was mostly healed; there was only a week's worth of healing balm left, and then it would finish mending on its own. It still looked red, but I knew it wasn't something to fade overnight. I opened the little jar and went to spread some of the remaining balm over the closed wound.  
  
"I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself," he complained.  
  
"So am I," I replied, making sure to keep my touch as light as possible. "There, done. That wasn't so hard, was it darling?"  
  
He leaned over and planted a swift kiss on my cheek. "There's nothing to worry about, Eowyn. You're being too mothering."  
  
"I am a mother now, Faramir. I can't help it."  
  
"Well, love, you're not mine. Now, if you don't mind, I've got to get dressed; we're expecting guests today, or did you forget?" He stood up and went to his dresser.  
  
I stood and walked to the cradle, smiling upon the now-sleeping baby. "How could I? I'm to see Eomer today for the first time in three years."  
  
"After that last letter you sent him, he seemed extremely determined to get here in record time. Is there something I'm missing?" Faramir asked, sorting through some shirts. He sounded slightly uneasy, like he was trying to hide his worries.  
  
I laughed a little, keeping my eyes on the baby. "Is that what you've been worrying about this past week; why Eomer is coming in such a hurry?" So, I hadn't been imagining him as being slightly on edge; he was worried over my brother!  
  
"It's just that you sent the letter away and a week later we get a messenger says he's already on his way. Can't I worry if there's something the matter?"  
  
"There is not, and if there were, I would have talked to you, and not bothered Eomer with the details. He's a good brother, but not so good that I can share all my secrets with him. You, my dear husband, are the only one whose misfortune it is to hear them."  
  
"Oh, absolutely delightful. I'd still like to know if there's a reason why he's in such a rush." I jumped a little as he wrapped his arms around my waist; I had not heard his footsteps this time.  
  
"There's a custom we have in Rohan where all the women will bring their children to be seen by the King. They do that as a way to make the people feel closer to their ruler, and so the king has an idea of how many people there are in his lands. Theoden used to set aside three hours every week just to see babies; newborns if they were from nearby, up to a year old if they where from too far. I used to sit there and watch him with the people; before Grima came, he was friendly as could be, and took care to write down the names of all the babies and their families. In later years, he still saw them, but few people came; he was not as social as before. They thought it too long of a journey just to see an old and weary king upon his throne, his son and nephew off always on campaign, his niece silent and cold by his side, his advisor whispering falsities in his ear. Where is the joy in that? Better to stay home and work than view a sight as awful as that."  
  
There was a moment of heavy silence and Elboron stirred uncomfortably. Faramir's head was resting lightly against mine, his arms still around my waist. I shivered; it had grown cold, or perhaps it was just my memories.  
  
"So, you asked Eomer to see Elboron?" Faramir said lightly, pulling me tightly to him.  
  
"Yes, and he was more than happy to oblige. I really think he just wanted an excuse to see me again; it's been so long." I turned to catch Faramir's eyes, and they smiled at me. I was warm again, my uncle's sad old face gone from my mind.  
  
I kissed Faramir then, deeply, clingingly. When I pulled back, he did not seem surprised, just smiled that secret, taunting, wise smile that he had developed since his near death experience.  
  
"I should get dressed," I whispered, pulling away and drifting towards my closet, searching for the brightest dress I could find. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------  
  
Eomer had not changed much in three years; he had not even grown fatter as most kings tend to do. Apparently, he spent little time sitting around Meduseld, listening to petitions from his people; he rode from town to town, speaking, helping, gaining trust and support. The only things that were different were a few new lines in his face and a wider smile than before.  
  
That night, after a rather luxuriant supper, he joined Faramir, Elboron and I in our sitting room, a cozy, warm little place that usually only my husband and I used. Eomer held the baby in his strong, lithe arms, and smiled down at the little features. "Adorable, absolutely lovely. I can't get over how much he looks like you, Faramir. Dark eyes, dark hair, thankfully he's got his mothers lips, not there's anything wrong with yours, of course. He's pale too, but you're not too dark yourself."  
  
"He's a baby, Eomer, of course he's not going to be sunburnt," I said with a laugh. "Is he everything you expected?"  
  
"All that and more. He'll be a handsome thing, I can see that now; strong and brave, too. He'll grow up right, for sure. He's blessed to have the pair of you for parents." Elboron cooed loudly and Eomer laughed. "He agrees!"  
  
"I think he looks exhausted. Eomer, you've worn him out with all this scrutiny," I said, peering into the baby's weary face.  
  
"Would you like me to take him to bed?" Faramir asked with a yawn.  
  
"It looks like I should be taking the both of you!" I said with a laugh.  
  
Eomer nodded. "Yes, I'll have to be heading to my own bed soon. It's been a long day, what with all the riding and the eating."  
  
"Oh, Eomer, you are so abused!" I joked. "Faramir, could you take Elboron to bed while I say goodnight to Eomer?"  
  
"As you desire, Lady Eowyn," he said with a smirk. Both men stood and Eomer passed the baby to his father. "It was good to see you Lord Eomer. Perhaps tomorrow I can show you the countryside?"  
  
"Sounds wounderful, I've always wanted to go riding around Ithilien. Eowyn describes it as such a lovely place, and from what I've seen, she doesn't lie."  
  
"So you suspected me of lying in the first place! I'm ashamed!" I cried in mock horror. There was general laughter and Faramir and Eomer quickly made plans before my husband left to take the baby to bed.  
  
Eomer sat down in his chair again and smiled at me. "You married quite a man, Eowyn. I don't believe I've ever met anyone quite like him."  
  
"Think, Eomer, have you ever met anyone quite like me?" I asked with a little smile of my own.  
  
"Come to think of it, the closest anyone has come to you is Faramir. Is he really as good as you say?" he inquired lightly.  
  
"Do you think I would lie to you? You are just accusing me of everything tonight, dear brother. Faramir is a perfect husband, why do you ask?"  
  
"Well, when I met him in Minas Tirith after the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, he seemed a bit nervous, sad actually. Even before that, remember I told you I had met him as a boy the first time I went to Gondor? He seemed so reserved and awkward, like an old man in a child's body. He seems different now."  
  
"He is different. He was a sad person at first; his family life was not the best. You heard the rumors of how he and his father never got along, haven't you?" Eomer nodded and I continued. "It is difficult to lose one's entire family as he did."  
  
"We know of that misfortune, Eowyn. Look at Mother and Father; look at Theodred and Theoden!"  
  
"But we have not lost each other. Imagine how you would have been had I been killed. But Faramir is not weak, and he bore his tragedy as best he could. I think... I think I have done some good for him, because as the years went on, he was more open with me. He didn't have those horrible nightmares; remember I told you he often had those? And since he was... wounded... he's been much happier; it's almost as if he found something, some answer to his problems."  
  
"I've heard of men on the battlefield who nearly die, then wake up and walk around cherishing their life more than ever, but I've heard of the opposite too. You should be thankful he has such a strong will."  
  
"He has more than will. He has hope. Now, he has a family. Our lives are wonderful here, Eomer; I've never been so happy."  
  
"I'm glad, Eowyn. It's good to see you in such high spirits. Forgive me for thinking anything but the best of Faramir; one needs only see your face when you talk about him to understand how good he is to you."  
  
There was a moment of silence as we just smiled at each other. Finally he stood and yawned. "I think I must be off to bed. I've got plans for tomorrow." As I stood up, he gathered me in his arms for a great hug. "I've missed you, little sister."  
  
"I've missed you too, brother. We'll talk more tomorrow, after you and Faramir get home."  
  
"Sounds splendid. Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
Having bid his farewell, Eomer left and wandered down to his room. I pushed open another door, the one that led to our personal apartments. I passed through the study and opened the door to our bedroom. Faramir had laid the baby down to rest; amazingly, the child wasn't crying. Faramir was just getting into his night clothes. I smiled at him, crossed to my dresser, and began to follow suit.  
  
"I forgot just how much I liked Eomer until today. I've always been thankful for him, but I forgot just how nice and friendly he is," Faramir said, pulling on his nightshirt.  
  
"Yes, it's a shame we don't visit each other more often," I said, musing quietly about how much I too had missed my brother.  
  
"We'll have to later, after the children are grown and ready to travel," came the nonchalant response.  
  
"Children?"  
  
"Well, Elboron can't be alone, can he?" Faramir said hopefully.  
  
"You just like to try," I accused with a grin.  
  
"It doesn't hurt anyone." Faramir's eyes glowed with a devilish light. I laughed as he scooped me up and carried me to the bed, laying me gently on top of the covers. He blew out the candle and laid down beside me, resting his head on my stomach. Then he sighed. "I heard you talking to Eomer."  
  
I stared down at him, a little nervous. Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned the nightmares to Eomer; perhaps Faramir would be angry, or even worse, hurt. "Yes?" I said timidly.  
  
"I'm glad you know it was you who helped me." He squeezed my hand tightly, interlacing his fingers with my own. "Thank you."  
  
"You're not mad?"  
  
"Of course not. He's your brother; he's family. I can't stop you from expressing your concerns to your own flesh and blood. Why, it's only natural, and I understand completely."  
  
I sat up suddenly and reached out and grabbed his face in the dark. I leaned close to him and whispered, "Why Faramir? Why are you so understanding? What has happened to you since your wounding? You're not the same."  
  
"Is that so bad?"  
  
"Not at all, but it's frightening!"  
  
"How so?"  
  
"You're so calm, so peaceful. I just want to know what happened to you to make you this way."  
  
He was quiet for a moment, and then he leaned closer. I couldn't see him in the dark, but I could feel his hair brush against my face as he whispered, "I can't tell you, Eowyn. I try not to hold anything back from you, but this is just too much too explain. You'll see someday, I promise. I'm sorry; will you forgive me?"  
  
"How could I not, when it has helped you so much?"  
  
"I already told you Eowyn; it was you who helped me the most. I simply needed, well, a kick in the right direction." I heard him laugh, very softly, and then he kissed my cheek. "I love you Eowyn."  
  
I reached out and wrapped my arms around his body, pulling him close. "I love you too," I breathed, falling back onto the pillows, bringing my husband with me. 


	11. The Road Ahead

Disclaimer: I only own my portion of the plot.  
  
Author's Note: The last chapter was a little slow, I know, but this one will (hopefully) be more interesting. Thanks again to everyone who reviews; it really helps a lot to know what people think. You're lifesavers!  
  
Chapter Eleven: The Road Ahead  
  
We say in Gondor that there are many statesmen; few of them are any good, and an even smaller number are great. But there are none who like it. Many people have often told me that I am a great statesman, one of the most brilliant Gondor has ever had, but, true to our maxim, I despise it. In all actuality, there was little I liked about being a noble at all, aside from my privileged access to libraries and archives of all sorts. Even though I had never enjoyed battle, fighting was at least more stimulating than council meetings. Therefore, being stuck in the council room on a lovely spring day was hardly my idea of fun, nor even slight amusement, or a way to keep busy. There were a thousand other things I needed to do; at least the pile of paperwork on my desk in my apartments there at Minas Tirith had purpose. More often than not, the council meetings were excuses for talkative old ambassadors and nobles to get together and ramble on aimlessly for hours on end.  
  
That day, though, there was a general excitement, and the king looked slightly preoccupied at breakfast that morning. It had become tradition for our families to dine together when we came in, which was about once every three months. I found myself there alone at least once a week, and though I still dined with the king's family, it was better to be surrounded by own as well. That morning, Eowyn and I, along with an eight year old Elboron and his twin siblings, joined the king, queen, and their seven year old boy, Eldarion. The twins, two girls named Eolyna and Lothlien, were only four years old, and as adorable as could be. Elboron thought they looked like cows, with their large, brown eyes; Eowyn thought they looked like me, and I swore they were the spitting images of her. We were both right; they were blonde but with chubby cheeks and eyes like mine. They were the pride of Ithilien.  
  
Elessar ate quickly and hurried away from the table as fast as he could. Arwen shook her head after he left. "He's been acting very strange lately. I think he has something important to say today in council."  
  
Eowyn, wiping some crumbs off of Lothlien's face, asked, "Do you have any idea what it's about?"  
  
"No, not much, except that there's to be some sort of mission. Where, when, who's going, or for what purpose, I don't know." Arwen turned her head and smiled kindly at Elboron. "Are you excited, Lord Elboron, for your first council meeting?" she asked, affection on her elven features. The two boys had been friends since infancy, and Elboron would often stay in Minas Tirith for a week between my visits. She looked upon him almost as a second child.  
  
The boy nodded his head fiercely. "Yes, Queen Arwen. I'm very ready. I'm glad that I'm old enough." He smiled superiorly at Eldarion, who stuck out his bottom lip.  
  
"Mamma, I'm old enough, really," he whined, tugging at Arwen's sleeve. "I'm the son of the King; can't he let me go today?"  
  
"Now, Eldarion, laws are laws, and you know that you have to be eight before you can go to a council meeting," Arwen said, trying to resist her son's pleading face.  
  
"Well, I suppose we'd better go," I said, pushing back my chair. "If the king is in such a rush to start, we mustn't keep him waiting." I stood and Elboron scrambled to his feet, beaming beside me. Eldarion stuck out his tongue.  
  
I bowed my head to the queen, and smiled at Eowyn, who was trying to get Eolyna to stop sucking on a spoon. She tossed a grin my way before returning to her chore.  
  
As we walked to the council room, I noticed the way Elboron held himself. He walked with pride and confidence, just as Boromir always had. I smiled a little at the comparison, but was just as worried. Boromir had been a great man, a fighter, boisterous, a lover of many women, strong and having a strong inclination to go drinking with his friends. Those were great qualities in a friend and brother, but not as promising in a son. I sighed quietly, but my child looked up at me anyways.  
  
"What's wrong, Father?" he asked, his eyes large and dark.  
  
"Nothing, nothing at all. You act like my brother did at your age," I replied, turning a corner.  
  
A smile broke out on his face. "Really? Do you think I'll be like Uncle Boromir, Father? Will everyone love me like they did you and him?"  
  
"How could they resist?" I said with a small laugh. "Elboron, are you ready for your first council meeting? I've warned you that they're very boring."  
  
"The King didn't seem to think so," he said matter- of- factly.  
  
"Maybe you'll be lucky. Here we are." I stopped in the empty hall before the great doors of the council room and knelt so we were face to face. He was already strong and tall like Boromir had been, and I wondered for a moment if my brother had been reborn. "This, Elboron, is a very important part of being Steward. Even if the meeting is long and not interesting at all, you must be awake and alert and listening to everything. It may not make much sense now, but I will explain it all to you after. Don't speak during the meeting; it's best if you just listen for now."  
  
He nodded and I smiled at him again. "That's my boy," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you ready?"  
  
"Yes, Father," he said, eyes so wide and trusting. I imagined that he had gotten his naivety from me; I had not been aware of dark purposes as a child. Things were as they were, and there was never a thing as maliciousness. Even Sauron, for a while at least, seemed to me very misunderstood and just a bit cranky.  
  
I stood and pushed open the doors. Everyone was already there – the old men of the region were known for their punctuality – but were not seated, just standing around, talking. As if the hours of the meeting were not enough time for chatting...  
  
When I entered, Elessar, seated at the head of the table, motioned for everyone to take their seats. My chair was to the left of his; a smaller seat had been placed between ours for Elboron. The old men smiled at Elboron's chubby face and dark eyes; a man from the countryside remarked "He looks like his uncle..."  
  
"Gentlemen," Elessar began sharply, "We have a matter to discuss. It has been fifteen years since the defeat of the Dark Lord, and there is still much to be taken care of."  
  
I started a little. I had never been to a council meeting that had started so quickly or with such urgency. "My Lord," I began uncertainly, "Is there something wrong? Is there some new evil, a war that we have not been aware of?"  
  
Eomer, looking rather angry, said, "There has been nothing but peace in the north. How is it that trouble came in the south?"  
  
"There is no war, Faramir, but there is trouble," the King said succinctly. "I received a letter a few months ago from the chief of the Easterlings. He demanded the land that used to be Mordor be given to his people. I refused, of course, but he was not satisfied. He says that there has been flooding in his land, and though there is room left for crops, most of his people have no homes. I sent word back, saying that in light of the situation, perhaps Gondor would cede some of the land in the east. What does the council believe?"  
  
"If there is no room for them to live, I say, let them die!" roared an old general whom my father had known well. "They slaughtered thousands of their soldiers, and now they demand favors?"  
  
There was a murmuring of consensus, but Eomer shook his head fiercely. "No, we cannot risk offending these people. Trade in Gondor and Rohan has prospered since the War, and we cannot put that at risk."  
  
"Yes," I added, leaning forward. "There is no need to alienate these people. We should strike a bargain, ceding maybe a fourth of the land to the Easterlings. There is no need to let innocent people suffer."  
  
"Faramir, boy, they killed our men!!" the general cried, pounding his hand on the table for emphasis.  
  
"Not every man, woman and child is a cold blooded killer," I shot back. "Just because I fought in the War doesn't mean that I did it out of malice and hatred. Most of the men were only serving their country. For all we know, half of their soldiers could have been forced into battle for fear of Sauron. The men of the west cannot appear merciless; these people are our allies and neighbors now!"  
  
There was silence for a moment, then the men started talking amongst themselves. My uncle, Imrahil, seated beside me, leaned over and whispered, "Well put, Faramir. You have your mother's compassion and your father's strength in matters of the state; a good mix!"  
  
There was a gentle tugging on my sleeve. I turned to see Elboron peering at me with awe-filled eyes. "Father, will they listen to you? I would have!"  
  
"I don't know, we will see," I said with a small smile before turning back to the table.  
  
"Gentlemen," Elessar called, and their was silence. "We will take a vote; all in favor of sending a delegation to speak to the Easterlings?"  
  
"Send them where?" demanded the general.  
  
Elessar sighed, and I could tell the old man was gnawing on his patience. "I said that perhaps I would send a delegation to speak with the Chief, but that I must hold a meeting first. He demanded that our men and his would meet in Mordor, on the Plains. All in favor?"  
  
Everyone except the old general and the man beside him raised their hands. Even Elboron, in his small chair, raised his. Elessar smiled. "Even the children see reason in this decision. So be it. Now, we must decide who will go in this delegation. I myself had some ideas." Elessar turned to me. "Faramir, would you do me the favor of heading this excursion?"  
  
A little shocked that the King had such faith in me, I nodded. "Of course, Sir, I would be honored."  
  
Eomer broke in with his strong voice. "I would like to let the Easterlings know that it is not only the Gondorians who wish their people well, but also the Rohirrim. I will go with Faramir."  
  
Elessar nodded. "So be it. I do not think that you should need many to go with you. Perhaps twenty soldiers and some minor officials to observe should a pact be made?" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------  
  
"Leaving? For Mordor? In two days?" Eowyn's jaw dropped. "You are insane."  
  
"Eowyn, it is safe. There are soldiers going, and your brother..."  
  
"I'm not worried about your safety! I'm furious at my brother and at you for suggesting we cede our land!" Eowyn's face was pink with rage, her eyes wide and brilliant blue. "Eomer just got married two years ago to that Lothriel, and now she's pregnant, and having a very hard time with it, and he's leaving her! Does he have no courtesy?"  
  
"There is nothing he can do to help his pregnant wife; no man can do anything for a pregnant woman," I replied with a smirk.  
  
"She's your cousin Faramir, and she's weak! Do you not care?" Eowyn screamed. We were alone in our apartments; the children were with Imrahil down in the city.  
  
"Of course I do, but neither I nor Eomer can do anything!" I snapped, losing my temper. "And why are you so insensitive towards the Easterlings?; we have made peace with them!"  
  
"The statesmen may have, but I have not! They butchered my people on the Pelennor! What right do they have to demand land?"  
  
"Their people are dying, Eowyn! Do not be so insensitive! They have no place to live!"  
  
"I will be as insensitive as I choose! When they killed my friends, my brother's friends, they were as insensitive as I!"  
  
"How is it your decision to condemn an entire people because you are bitter?"  
  
Eowyn laughed harshly and came close to me, so that our faces were inches apart. "You would dare to call me bitter? You've been bitter your whole life! Don't tell me that I am bitter when your tortured soul helped make me that way!"  
  
I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach by a very strong man. "Are you unhappy, then?" I asked quietly.  
  
"No, not always," she said harshly. "Only when you would get your moods and go off sulking for days at a time. So you were hurt. I was as well! Show a little concern!"  
  
Still feeling a little weak form her attack, I asked, "When have I ever not been concerned about you? I haven't had those depression fits for years now, you know that!"  
  
"But it was a very lasting impression! How can I believe the world is good when a man can't even be accepted by his own father? What Denethor did to you was horrible, and though you've come to terms with it, I can't accept the fact that someone could be so cruel. So yes, Faramir, you've made me bitter."  
  
I stepped back from her, glaring at her with such a rage that she colored a little from guilt. "Well, Eowyn dearest," I said, my voice dripping with false affection, "If that's the way you really feel, perhaps you should be grateful I'm trying to make the world a little better." I turned my back on her.  
  
I heard her start to say my name, as if to make an apology, but instead she went into the bedroom and slammed the door. I slept in Elboron's room that night and the next, which he thought was great fun. I sat on my horse two days later, too stubborn to make say sorry, as was my wife. The road to Mordor lay ahead, and all I could think about was returning and telling Eowyn that I loved her. If, I thought, my pessimism coming to haunt me, I returned at all. Mordor was still a treacherous place, and most thought the Easterlings were a treacherous people. Suppose I should never see my wife or children again?  
  
I looked back at Minas Tirith, and saw only my children on the walls beside Imrahil. Beside me, Eomer snorted. "Lady Eowyn is still mad at us, I suppose?" he asked grimly.  
  
"Do you think she would apologize?" I asked sarcastically. Eomer laughed and urged his horse onward. 


	12. Elves in the Mountains

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. It's hard to get a few hours to sit down and write these things. I'll try to be faster, but I'm doing the best I can.  
  
Disclaimer: Standard  
  
Chapter Twelve: Elves in the Mountains  
  
The moon had risen several hours ago; it was past midnight. There was a very light breeze which carried up mingled scents of the city and the wild. The burning aroma of oil lamps mingled with the clear perfume of the river, creating something not at all unpleasant, but very unique to Minas Tirith. It was mid-spring, cool and wet, but the gust that blew back my hair was refreshing and needed.  
  
Sitting on the windowsill in my bedroom in the city, I could see everything I desired. The calm, night view of Gondor could be replaced with an image of a slumbering Lothriel, if only I turned my head. Tired, lonely, and very heavily pregnant, she had nearly jumped at my offer that she spend the nights in my room, in case the baby should come. I noticed she had seemed more relaxed these past few days, and I did not mind giving up my bed to her. I had never liked sleeping in it alone, and on the nights when Faramir did not get back from a meeting with the king (or a trip to the taverns with Beregond) until late, I would sit in the window, waiting. I had not slept in it since our argument nearly a week ago, and if the feeling of being watched over comforted Lothriel, I would not complain.  
  
Eolyna and Lothlien, not old enough yet to have their own apartments, usually slept in their small beds in the next room of ours, but tonight, they had fallen asleep in their blankets on my floor and were too innocent to move. As children, they still had nightmares, stomachaches, and just plain lack of fatigue that kept them (and me) up at night. Elboron had his apartment down the hall; he had been quick to demand, at the age of five, his independence from his parents. I smiled a little, to be so surrounded by all of these people. Lothriel had become a dear friend to me since her marriage to Eomer three years in the past; my children, even strong headed Elboron, still liked to cling to me in a reassuring way.  
  
I yawned, my first of the night. Since my husband and brother's departures, I had been unable to sleep well at all. I thought of them constantly, particularly Faramir, with loneliness one moment, and anger the next. I despised the thought of them helping the Easterlings, people whom I considered to be thieves, traitors, and murderers. Lothriel did not harbor the same loathing (indeed, she was so utterly sweet that I doubted she hated anything), but I noticed the loneliness etched on her tired features. I was angry for her – was she not Eomer's pregnant wife and Faramir's sickly cousin? – but I could not deny my own feelings. I felt betrayed; there seemed to me to be no point in giving land that we had just recently won (with more bloodshed than we could stand) back to the people we had won it from. In my heart, I felt glad that they were suffering, though I knew I should have felt horrible for thinking such a thing. While I saw my anger as justified, I knew that I should not have said such things as I did to Faramir. He had not made me bitter, nor unhappy; in my rage, I had ways of overly dramatizing things so as to win the argument. It was an unworthy and unhonorable tactic, to be sure, but it was a character flaw I could not seem to dispel. At this point, I thought unhappily, arching my back to stretch, I was willing to forgive Faramir for wanting to help what I saw as enemies. An apology was in order, and, amazingly, I saw that I was the one who needed to deliver it.  
  
A sudden little whimper brought me back from my musings. Eolyna, twisted up horribly in her sheets, seemed to be having a little nightmare. Lothlien's eyes shot open and glared at her twin. "Eolyna, shhh!" she said harshly, giving her sister a gentle push.  
  
"Lothlien!" I snapped in a whisper, not too harshly. I slid down from the windowsill and came over to the girls, untangling Eolyna from her sheets. Her eyes flew open and widened immediately.  
  
"Mum," she whined, looking around, "Mum, where's Da?" I gathered her close and kissed the top of her head. "Mum, where's Da?" she demanded once again.  
  
"Shh, Eolyna, your aunt Lothriel is trying to sleep. And you know your father went to help the Easterlings; I explained this. He's doing something very good for those people, because he's a good man." I had not been able to tell the children my distaste for the Easterlings, so I told them the truth as it would appear to most people except for me. They had accepted that, confident in their "Da's" goodness, Eolyna most of all. She was very much like Faramir; quiet, but very keen, with a penchant for reading and her father's stories. She was always unhappy when he wasn't at home, and was the first to run to the stables to find him on his return.  
  
"I want Da to come home!" she demanded, a little quieter, but not by much.  
  
"Shh, dear, your aunt is sleeping. I know you want your father home, but he'll be safe." A sudden thought occurred to me; was she having a vision in her dream, like Faramir had been prone to as a child? Was he in some danger, unknown to anyone but his scared daughter many miles away in her bed? "Why do you want him home so badly?" I asked urgently. "Do you think something is wrong?" I took a deep breath. No matter how I felt, I would not act panicked in front of the children.  
  
"I miss him, but you yelled at him and he feels bad now," she said, sobbing a little. "I don't want you to be angry at him."  
  
My mouth dropped a little. Of course. Faramir had seemed upset, he had probably mentioned the fight to Eomer when Eolyna was around, and she knew her father had not left a happy man. "Oh, honey, oh, I'm sorry. I've been feeling very bad about yelling at Da, and I can hardly wait for him to get home so I can tell him how sorry I am. I'm not really angry, I was just being silly, and I said something I didn't mean. When he comes back, everything will be better."  
  
Eolyna seemed to think about this for a moment, then turned to Lothlien. The other girl nodded, as if they had agreed that my excuse had been satisfactory. Then, Eolyna turned back to me and frowned again. "I want a story," she demanded. Once again, Lothlien nodded in agreement.  
  
"I already told you a story," I sighed wearily, shifting so that I had one arm around each girl. It was going to be another long night, I could tell.  
  
"One of Da's stories," Eolyna insisted. "He always tells us good ones, about dwarves and elves and hobbits."  
  
"I don't know any..." I stopped a moment, then smiled slyly. "Actually, I suppose that I do know a story about an elf that uncle Eomer and I met once."  
  
"Really?" I jumped a little at Lothriel's voice. I hadn't noticed that she had woken up, or was listening, for that matter. "Eomer never told me about any elves."  
  
"Well, it was a very long time ago. It was only a few weeks before our father died, so we didn't remember it much after that. We would mention it occasionally, but it always made Eomer uncomfortable; he finds elves slightly unsettling." I smiled at Lothriel, who had a bit of elven blood herself. "Full blooded elves, of course."  
  
"Tell us, Mum," Lothlien begged. "Please, tell us and we'll go to sleep." At this Eolyna nodded furiously, her eyes wide with pleading. They grew bigger with delight as I tilted my head in defeat.  
  
"Well, it couldn't hurt," I grumbled. "It was quite a long time ago. I was only about seven years old; I can't remember for sure..." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
Haefla was surely the oldest woman Eowyn and Eomer had ever met. Their mother had been wary of letting the old lady be the children's nanny, but after watching her supervise them for a day or so, she was settled. So, Old Haefla became Eowyn and Eomer's constant watchdog. Everyday, she would walk (rather slowly) out to the wide fields surrounding Edoras, find a nice alcove at the bottom of the mountains, and fall asleep. The first few days this happened, the shocked siblings just sat and watched her sleep. Soon though, they realized she would not wake up from these naps until hours later, so they set off to explore the mountains.  
  
It was on one particular day like this that Eomer persuaded his little sister to climb higher than they ever had before. She, being very headstrong and unwilling to let her brother outdo her, agreed.  
  
"Eomer," she called, grasping an overhead stone and pulling herself up, "I don't think this is a very good idea." She scrambled onto the ledge and immediately peeked over the edge, wishing she hadn't. The drop was very steep, very far, and very sharp.  
  
"Are you afraid, then?" Eomer taunted, hoisting himself up beside her in a few moments.  
  
"No, of course not," she said, not sure if she was lying or not. "It's just that it's a very big drop, and I don't want you to fall. You're too fat to carry back to Edoras myself."  
  
Eomer gave her an ugly look. "You could get Haefla to do it, if she would wake up in time. Besides, I'm not the one who would fall."  
  
"I'm littler than you, and faster," she replied, a smug grin on her face. "I don't have to worry."  
  
They argued back and forth like that for a few moments before Eomer got up to start climbing again. Eowyn obediently followed, feeling tired but not wanting to let it show. "Eowyn," he called suddenly, "I think there's a big nice ledge up here." She saw him scramble and disappear.  
  
"What is it?" she called, peering upwards. There was no reply. "Eomer? Eomer, answer me!" Still, there was no response. She huffed, and then began pulling herself closer, mumbling various insults to her brother under her breath. Grabbing the ledge, she pulled herself up and over.  
  
Peering about, she saw Eomer, standing on quite a large rocky outcropping. He looked alert, scared, and ready to fight, all at the same time. He had in his hand the small dagger he had been given by their father. Eowyn, frantic, looked around, but didn't see what was threatening her brother.  
  
"Eomer, there's nothing up here," she said sharply. He reached back and clapped his hand over her mouth and shook his head. To their right, a few rocks tumbled down the cliff, echoing ominously. She uttered a muffled shriek as a head peered around a large boulder at them.  
  
"Children? Climbing mountains?" The person shook his head, long blonde hair cascading over his shoulders. "This cannot be safe, can it?"  
  
"Leave us alone!" Eomer shouted, sounding much braver than his shaking made him seem.  
  
Eowyn's eyes widened in shock. "It's an elf, Eomer!" she hissed, pointing in the direction of the person's pointed ears.  
  
The elf smiled and came from behind the boulder. "Ah, you're a smart one..." he began, but Eomer jabbed at him with his dagger.  
  
"Don't come near us," he threatened. "I know what elves do. You capture little children and feed them to your queen. You're not taking Eowyn and me!"  
  
"Feed you? To my queen?" The elf gave a hearty laugh and promptly sat down upon the ledge. "No, even if my queen was some horrible monster who ate human children, you are both much too skinny to make a meal."  
  
Eomer, slightly confused and off his guard, fell to the side as Eowyn pushed him away in her scramble to get to the elf. She fell to her knees in front of him and stared, awe etched on her face. "Are you really an elf?" she asked in a whisper.  
  
"Yes, you're right," the elf replied. "My name is Orophin; I come from Lothlorien, to the north."  
  
"What are you doing away from there, then?" Eomer snapped. He stood behind Eowyn, lightly clutching his dagger, still looking wary.  
  
The elf frowned at him. "You are not very friendly, young man. Your sister is much better behaved." He was quiet and did not answer.  
  
Eowyn leaned closer. "What are you doing here, sir?" she asked, in her most polite voice.  
  
Again, Orophin smiled. "My queen, who is not hungry for your blood, sent me on a mission to the south, where some people that have some far-removed elven blood still dwell. I am on my way back from there now. I decided that scurrying over these mountains would be quicker than going around."  
  
Eomer's jaw dropped. "You cannot be serious. These mountains are very treacherous to climb; it's surprising you're not dead."  
  
"Elves are much more graceful and light than men. I had no problem in climbing or descending this mountain. You, on the other hand, will probably find it a difficult task to get back to the ground."  
  
Eowyn nodded. "I didn't want to, I knew it was dangerous, really. Eomer's just a big brute, and always makes me do things like this. Sir, what is Lothlorien like?"  
  
Orophin laughed, obviously taking a liking to Eowyn. "It is beautiful, golden, and sweet. There is no place like it in the world. This place of Rohan, it is lovely in its own way, but I much prefer the Land of Lorien."  
  
"May I come back with you?" Eowyn inquired eagerly.  
  
"Eowyn!" Eomer snapped, obviously shocked.  
  
Orophin's eyes widened. "You say your brother makes you do dangerous things, little one, but you are a bit foolish yourself. You could not go to Lorien; few people ever go there, for it is mysterious and ancient. Most people cannot comprehend or truly appreciate it."  
  
"But... It would be fun," Eowyn said with a shrug. "Perhaps, someday."  
  
"Yes, perhaps, Lady Eowyn," Orophin mused for a moment. "Now, back to the ground with you; this is not a good place for you to be. Ah, wait..." He stood and went to the back of the rock and retrieved a small green bag. He reached inside and pulled out a very long silver rope. "Yes, here, I will tie this to this rock..." He fastened one end of the rope to a stable rock. Eomer jumped as he passed, looking scared. "There now, you can just make your way down."  
  
Eomer needed no second bidding. Immediately he was making his way down, eyes wide and fearful. Eowyn hesitated. "I always wanted to meet an elf," she said slowly. "Can't you come back to Meduseld with us, and tell us stories?"  
  
Orophin smiled at her and ruffled her hair. "Of course not. I must get back to my lady and tell her my mission is accomplished. You will meet other elves someday; surely, an elf from another place than I am from. In fact, Lady Eowyn, you will meet many kinds of people, and go many places. But for now, your parents and your uncle Theoden await you. Go."  
  
Eowyn nodded fiercely and turned away. She made her way down the rope rather slowly. As soon as she was back on solid ground, the rope drew itself upwards. She watched it for a moment, and then smiled at her brother.  
  
"Not a word of this to anyone," he snapped, turning very red. He frowned at her. "Why do you look so confused?"  
  
Eowyn tilted her head and bit her lip as they began to walk back towards Haefla. "He knew Uncle Theoden's name..." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------  
  
Eolyna and Lothlien stared with wide, amazed eyes. I smiled softly at them. "That was my first encounter with an elf. I did not meet another one until many years later, when our friend Legolas arrived with Gimli and the king in Edoras," I finished.  
  
Lothriel laughed. "Eomer is so distrustful of things he sees as magic or too radically different. I am not surprised he acted that way," she said.  
  
"No, it is just in his nature to be like that. Now, Eolyna, Lothlien, you promised you'd go to sleep. Get to your beds." Dutifully, unhappily, the twins trudged off to their beds, looking slightly amazed from my adventure. They closed the door softly behind them.  
  
I turned back to Lothriel, who was watching me with a smile. "That was a wonderful story," she said, watching as I crossed back to the window. As I crawled up onto the sill, she said, "I'm sorry I'm taking up your bed. If you'd like..."  
  
"Stay there, Lothriel," I replied, not letting her finish. "I'm not tired, and you need all the rest you can get."  
  
"Yes," she said with a yawn. "I suppose you're right." She was asleep again soon, greeted by what I'm sure were sweet dreams of my brother. She drew the blankets close to her chin, snuggled deep into my pillow, and wrapped her arm around the swell of her stomach, comforted by the life inside her.  
  
I turned to gaze out the window again, cold, tired, lonesome, and sorry. 


	13. Amarae

Author's Note: Once again, a long delay in writing. But, a man at the mall who looked incredibly like David Wenham, paired with my newly repaired (and virus-free) computer, has driven me back to my work. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter Thirteen: Amarae  
  
Mordor, no longer heated by the fires rising from the Cracks of Doom, was a chilly, desolate place, devoid of heat, inhabitants, or any kind of cheer. The light was dreary and weak, barely penetrating the thick covering of clouds still lingering from the time before the Great War. Unfortunately, that was all during the day; night was almost hellish when it came to living conditions. There was a frost every evening, lasting well into the morning, freezing all of our food and water. It was pitch black at all times; no moonlight or star rays could get through the haze. There was a total absence of sound, which drove me nearly mad. I had never been able to sleep without sound; as a boy and later, a young man, in Minas Tirith, I slept with the window open so I could be lulled to sleep by the sounds of a city at night; in Ithilien, as a Ranger, there was always the rustle of leaves, the sound of the waterfall; even in my home in Ithilien now, I slept with the window open to hear anything I could, and when Eowyn forced me to close it because of the cold, I wouldn't close my eyes until I could concentrate on the steady whisper of her breathing.  
  
Eowyn, always my thoughts drifted back to Eowyn. On the third night since entering Mordor, I lay on my cot in my tent, blanket pulled up around my ears, thinking of how much I missed my darling wife. Her face was behind my eyelids; every time I tried to close them and catch a fleeting wisp of sleep, I saw her smile and was immediately racked with guilt and loneliness. The thought of causing her pain, the thought of leaving her on angry terms, the thought of being separated from her at all was unbearable. I suffered through nearly four hours of this. Finally, being sick of being sick with myself, I sat up and got dressed, throwing on my heaviest traveling cloak and thickest boats. I could not keep still while thoughts of sorrow drifted through my mind, and sleep was far beyond my grasp.  
  
Pushing open the flaps of my tent, I looked about in the dim torchlight. Two guards were standing on either side of my doorway; they blinked owlishly at me as I regarded each of them in turn.  
  
"Prince Faramir," began one, whose name was Reathor. "My Lord, it is not yet the second hour of the morning; we won't be riding for some time."  
  
"Yes, yes, I know," I answered, looking off into the ink surrounding us. "That torch," I added suddenly, pointing to the one by his companion's side. "Give it here."  
  
Reathor's companion gently picked up the torch and handed it to me. "If you don't mind me asking, my Lord, what is it you're planning to do?" he asked uncertainly.  
  
"I'm going for a walk," I said simply, pulling the hood of my cloak up around my face.  
  
Reathor's mouth fell open. "My Lord, a walk? In the freezing cold? In the very early morning? In the dark? In Mordor? Alone?"  
  
"Yes, that was the plan. I shall be back by dawn. Make sure to tell the other guards when you switch duty. Go find another torch; it's freezing out here."  
  
With a sharp nod, I brushed past them, feeling uncharacteristically harsh. I usually was not so short with my soldiers, but for some reason, I felt a driving need to go out and explore, even if it was in the bitter cold and darkness of Mordor at night.  
  
My boots crunching on the frozen ground, I set off to the northwest, where a long line of jagged rocks stretched out over the plain for as far as I could see. They were natural, I could see, but they made a great added defense to the outer reaches of Mordor. Interested, and feeling just a bit reckless, I strode toward them, not even bothering to think if some evil creatures still dwelt between these ancient boulders and the long, winding mountains. I had first caught a glimpse of them the day before; we had come into Mordor by way of Minas Morgul. It was a very silent and disturbing place; our group had gone through the ancient stronghold as fast as we could. The strangeness and lingering evil of the place shook even Eomer, whom I had never before seen unsettled. As we made our way onto the Plains, I began to look about, fascinated by this place that had always been so close to me yet shut off by the looming and terrible mountains. Now, because the evil behind them was destroyed, they didn't seem so foreboding, but Mordor was how I had pictured it- a waste, distasteful and almost disgusting.  
  
As I neared the rocks, I realized that they were closer together than I had originally thought; in fact, there was barely enough space in between for a normal sized man to squeeze through. I peered between two of the boulders; on the other side seemed to be a thin, but long stretch of plain. Sucking in my breath, I tried to force myself through, yet the bulk of my cloak and my many layers prevented me from doing so. Curiosity (which I always considered to be one of my most dangerous faults) nearly driving me crazy at this point, I pulled of the cloak and stripped off two layers, leaving me in just my undershirt and leggings. Regretting my decision, but not enough to make me turn back, I grabbed my clothes in one hand, the torch in the other, and tried again.  
  
With a heave, I forced myself through, and I immediately began throwing on my clothes again. After I was successfully bundled again, I held the torch out and looked around. The plain sloped downward, with rocks blocking most of it from view. I swore lightly under my breath; this would be a wonderful place for an enemy ambush, and I could have just wandered into a dangerous trap. Still, my usual warning instinct wasn't alarmed, so I crept along, inching around rocks as I went.  
  
As I progressed in this manner, I was startled to hear the clicking of rocks, followed by the sound of footsteps. Immediately I pressed my body flat against one of the boulders, trying to keep my torch out of sight. There were more footsteps... more... They stopped for a moment, and then continued, haltingly. There was no mistake.  
  
They were coming closer.  
  
I reached my free hand to my belt and withdrew my dagger. There was only one pair of footsteps that I could hear; I had the advantage, the light, and the readiness. I began to move slowly, so that I could position myself and see my possible attacker. Halfway through this attempt, I heard a bump, the sound of someone stumbling, and then a high pitched scream and a thud.  
  
No longer wary, sure that the other person was on the ground, I whipped myself around the stone to face whoever it was that was there with me. There was no one there. Whoever it was was still further down the plain.  
  
I was creeping closer, not wanting to give up the element of surprise, when I heard the sobbing. I lowered my weapon; it sounded very close. Cautiously, I peered around a rock obstructing my view, and raised my torch to see.  
  
At the sudden light, the person sitting on the ground in front of me started, trying to stand and then falling again with a small cry of pain. "Wait!" I said, hastily putting my dagger back into my belt and then extending my free hand. "Wait, please! I don't want to hurt you!"  
  
The person turned to face me and with a small shock I realized that it was a young Easterling woman. She peered at me with dark, angry eyes, then pulled the hood of her cloak so far up that I couldn't see her face. She didn't try to stand again, only edged backwards so that her back was against a rock. Immediately she began yelling something at me in her own language, one that I understood very little of.  
  
"No! Stop!" I yelled back at her in what I knew was a horrible imitation of the Easterling language. "Peace?" I asked, taking a step closer, my arm still outstretched.  
  
"You!" she suddenly barked in the Common Tongue. "You think that you can speak like my people? Who teaches you such things?" Her voice was rough and irritated, but it sounded somewhat amazed as well.  
  
"I'm sorry I don't know much of your tongue; that was actually about all I knew. Please, don't be frightened, I want to help you. Have you been hurt?"  
  
With a shrug, the hood of her cloak fell back, and I saw her face in the flickering light from the torch. Some of the anger was gone from her eyes, replaced by one of mild distrust. "Who are you? Why are you here? You are Gondorian, yes? What brings you here when you have such beautiful land already at your disposal?" Her accent was thick, but it was still easy to understand what she was saying; if I had any doubt, her facial expression could have conveyed the message just as well.  
  
"I am here with my... companions." I hesitated to say soldiers, just in case this whole incident was an elaborate ruse. Perhaps if I appeared to be nothing more than a soldier myself, any evil that might be accompanying her might take no notice of me. "We are traveling to meet a group of Easterlings, including their king. We wish to negotiate the transference of some of the lands of Mordor to your people."  
  
The young woman's eyes narrowed. "The King has sent word to you of the flooding, and your King has offered him land? It is sorrow that such a proud people must ask for land like children would ask for sweets. Your victory in the Great War has humbled our people very much." She looked bitter and turned her face away.  
  
I knelt down on the ground by her feet, which were, to my amazement and slight horror, unshod. She was bleeding, and the skin looked badly cracked; her left ankle was swollen awfully. "I think that your ankle has been dislocated," I said softly, trying to put the young woman at ease. "If you don't mind, I would reset it for you."  
  
She turned back to me and looked at me disdainfully. "Do not bother. I have no way to pay you. All that I have must be used for some other purpose; none can be spared for such creature comforts."  
  
"My Lady, this is no creature comfort. I know not where you are trying to go, but you will get no further with your ankle like this. At the slow pace you will travel like this, it will be weeks before you find civilization; you will perish from hunger. Please, allow me to help you. As payment, I would only require that you tell me who you are, why you are here, where you are going, and why you have left your home." I smiled softly at her, trying to get her to warm up to me a bit.  
  
She stared at me harshly for a moment more, then the angry look faded from her eyes. Pulling up her cloak and dress a little, she offered her ankle to me. She turned away from me as she spoke, as if she were ashamed of something. "My name is Amarae. I am an Easterling, as you can tell, a daughter of two peasants. I was married, and had two children, but my husband found a better wife, and I was cast off. So I am regarded as a dishonored woman in the eyes of my people. I have always been a very prideful person, which is a very bad thing for an individual, but wonderful for an entire people. I could not stand being looked down upon for something I could not have helped, so I found some money and started off to the West. To Gondor."  
  
I nodded, squeezing her ankle tenderly, trying to find the exact place where it had become dislocated. "Where are your children?" I asked, trying to keep her talking. Aside from being curious, I knew that if she was concentrating on something else, the pain of what I had to do would be less harsh.  
  
She seemed to understand this too, and kept speaking. "They are with their father. When a woman is cast off, she has two options. She can either see her children as often as she wants, or she can take a large sum of money from her husband and go to find her fortune. I stayed in my town around my children for a while, but when the shame became too great, I took the money and left. It is heartbreaking, but I felt I was shaming my children by being around them." She winced as I found the spot the needed to be moved and tightened my grip.  
  
"What are you planning to do in Gondor?" I asked, trying my best to keep her calm.  
  
"I was a maid in my former husband's home; that is where he met me and asked me to be his wife. I thought that maybe I could clean houses for some of the people in Gondor; I hear that there are some very wealthy and kind people in your realm and..." She bit her lip and stifled a cry as I twisted her ankle back into place. As the pain passed, she turned her face towards me and she smiled softly. "Thank you, kind man. You know quite a bit about me now, but I do not even know your name."  
  
"Are you cold?" I asked, avoiding her indirect question. Without waiting for her to respond, I took off my cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. She looked up at me quizzically, and I found that I could not hide myself from her.  
  
"My name is Faramir; I am Steward of Gondor and prince of Ithilien," I said quietly, not wanting to sound proud or superior.  
  
Amarae's eyes widened, and she immediately bowed her head. "I am sorry, my Lord; I did not know! Forgive me for speaking rudely, or of inane things; had I known who you were..."  
  
"I probably wouldn't have gotten to know you as a companion, but only as a servant. Please, I do not want to be some high and distant monarch; I have never really cared much for such court formalities. If you would, Amarae, I would like to take you back to my camp. You won't be able to go very far on your injured ankle, and our mission will not be that much longer."  
  
She nodded, keeping her eyes away from mine. I placed my hand under her chin and tilted her head so that she had no choice but to look into my face. "Don't act frightened; I will not hurt you. I don't wish to be your superior, but your friend. Please, do not treat me as if I am sacred. No 'My Lord', or other vague titles; Lord Faramir will do just fine for now."  
  
Her eyes, very deep and clear, caught mine and she nodded. "Yes, Lord Faramir," she said. "I would like it very much to travel with you and your men."  
  
"Very well then, it is settled." I placed the torch in her hands and then scooped her up into my arms. She was very light; I wondered how long it had been since she had last eaten. "Hold the torch in front of us; yes, like that," I instructed. I began to sneak back through the rock maze, which was considerably harder now that I was carrying more than I had come with.  
  
"Amarae, how old are you?" I asked, suddenly curious again.  
  
"I believe that I have twenty two years, Lord Faramir. Why do you ask?"  
  
"And how old are your children?"  
  
"My girl is five, and my boy, eight. Once again, may I ask why you want to know?"  
  
"You must have married quite young," I said as we neared the boulders that formed the wall to the chasm.  
  
"Yes, I suppose I was a young girl; thirteen maybe?"  
  
"Twenty two," I mused quietly. "You are quite young still."  
  
"Oh, and I suppose that you are very old? I believe that you are young and handsome," she said with a mischievous grin.  
  
"I am married," I said, somewhat reproachfully. She was very playful now that she had come to trust me, and while that was nice, any romantic intentions would not be. I slid her through the boulders with ease, but as I was doing so I realized that I would have to strip to my underclothes again. "Amarae," I called to her from the far side, "Turn your back, close your eyes, and do not look again until I tell you."  
  
After receiving her confirmation that she had done so, I undressed quickly, slid through with great haste, and threw my clothes back on again. Suddenly, I felt almost sick; what would Eowyn say if she saw me standing half naked in the deserts of Mordor with a young Easterling woman who found me to be handsome? I shook the unease from my mind; nothing sinister or unhonorable had happened. Amarae was helpless with her injured ankle; I could do nothing but protect her.  
  
Once I had picked her up and started traveling with her again, she asked, "Is your wife very beautiful?"  
  
The doubt returned, and I felt uneasy speaking to this girl of Eowyn. "Very beautiful," I answered truthfully. "Very kind, sweet, and trustworthy. I love her with all that I can; she is very dear to me."  
  
"And do you have children?"  
  
"A boy and twin girls."  
  
"Ah," came Amarae's response. She suddenly became very quiet, and after a while I noticed that she had fallen asleep.  
  
The first rays of dawn were making their weak appearance as I stepped into camp. Immediately, all eyes were on me as the men wondered what their Prince could be doing with a sleeping Easterling woman in his arms. Eomer regarded her suspiciously as I stepped toward him. I stopped so that we were facing one another; the men circled around us, waiting to hear their questions answered.  
  
"Faramir, if you don't mind me asking, who is this?" Eomer asked, tilting his head and looking slightly bemused.  
  
"Her name is Amarae. I found her in the desert earlier this morning; I couldn't sleep so I went walking to clear my mind, and this is what I happened upon. Her ankle was severely dislocated; I had to fix it. Because of her injury, I could not let her keep going on how she was; I asked her to join us, for she is going to Gondor as well."  
  
Eomer bent over the sleeping young woman in my arms. "And why is she going to Gondor?" he inquired.  
  
"Her life was hard; she wanted to make a new one for herself," I answered, unwilling to give the details of her shame to anyone without her approval. Eomer seemed to sense this, and nodded.  
  
"Well, see if she'll ride on a horse with you; let her sleep now if she wants, but we will not wait," he said finally. We exchanged a smile and I left to carry Amarae to my horse. I lifted her up to the mare's back and, in her exhaustion, she did nothing but sigh and lean against the soft pillow of mane. After making sure she was steady, I began to pack my other things up, always keeping her in my sight.  
  
"Faramir."  
  
I turned to see Eomer standing there, the same amused grin on his face. "Yes, brother?" I asked with a smile and good humor.  
  
"This girl," he said, gesturing towards Amarae, dozing on the horse. "Do you think Eowyn will approve of you rescuing and being a savior towards a pretty young Easterling girl?"  
  
"Don't you think I've already thought of how Eowyn will react?" I answered, continuing to pack.  
  
"And?" he asked, pushing me to say more.  
  
"And..." I sighed and gave a weak little laugh. "And hopefully Eowyn loves me as much as I love her, for if she loves me any less, I'm afraid for my safety." 


End file.
